Space Medicine 101
by Rulid
Summary: The story follows Chloe Michel and Garrus Vakarian, before and through the Reaper War, and how their relationship changed surrounding a gruesome string of events earlier in their lives.
1. Penetrating Head Injuries

**Disclaimer: Bioware/EA owns Mass Effect. **

**The story will revolve around Doctor Chloe Michel and Garrus Vakarian beginning from before the events of Mass Effect. **

**I would really really appreciate any Advice, reviews or recommendations. **

* * *

**Penetrating Head Injuries**

- March, 2184

The dimly lit room only allow a few strands of light, but Chloe could see that he had already gotten up and dressed himself. He was always like that. He came, he went, and she would not hear from him for long periods of time before he would reemerge again. Sometimes she didn't ask him where he was going. But this time, he had been here longer than usual that she had been fostering the hope that he would stay a bit longer.

She had grown accustomed to his bluntness, his coldness, his inner rage, and she had thought she could accept him as he was. But it had began to chip away at her, and the long and lonely days on the Citadel only worsened the feeling. He had been a bit more talkative, this time. He had spoken of his Father, again, and his sister, and, to her dismay, Tali. But then he had thanked her tenderly, more emotional than usual, before they had kissed and she had invited him to her bed.

She already felt alone, as she could sense his solitude wrapping about him in the darkness again. The visor gleamed to life, beckoning its master again to the fury. As he snapped his visor on in place, she knew that his mind had already fled towards the stars.

"Your leaving." she almost cried. But she didn't want to burden him with her emotions.

He didn't reply, it was obvious he was going. Chloe reached for her nightgown slipped out of bed. She wanted to hold him one more time before he left again. She could never know when he would be back, days, weeks, usually months. He usually returned to hide out for a couple of days, lingering at best a week. But this time, he had been here a month. He hadn't talked for the first few weeks, simply thanked her for the meals. Some nights he didn't return, and she suspected that he was prowling the streets again.

It was the Normandy, obviously. It had been on the news a few days before his arrival. The ship had been destroyed off the atmosphere of Alchera, with a dozen casualties including Commander Shepard. He had left Shepard's company earlier, along with most of the non-human crew except Liara T'Soni. And to her bewilderment, he had knocked on her clinic soon after.

It was too good to be true, she admitted. His wounds had been from bullets, a few shrapnel and burns. She could never ask where he had gone, and he never offered her any explanation. But now, he seemed more darker and brooding than ever. His eyes, which had previously shown some exasperation at the world, was now more focused, determined.

"I could fix you something to eat before you go." She hurriedly grasped his arm, barely stopping herself from begging him not to leave.

"Don't cash your chips in with me, Chloe." He spoke in his usual soft and strained voice. "The universe is an unjust place for the righteous. We never get what we deserve, and you deserve far better than me."

Chloe felt her head become light and dizzy, and the strength flee from her arms as they carelessly dropped to her sides.

"I can't help worry about you, Garrus."

* * *

- November, 2178

Aron Weaver used to be C-Sec. He had often visited the clinic for treatment after small fry skirmishes, which she had suspected was mostly to chat up with her. Chloe was aware that the few humans on the Citadel frequented her small clinic, as it was the only one specializing in humans, and she was also aware that the men were especially prone to return for even the slightest ailments. Her brother had joked that she had become a 'jerk-magnet', attracting all the wrong people. But Aron had usually been kind and helpful, dropping off a pastry or coffee on the way to C-Sec. But Aron had changed recently, not frequenting as he had used to, then suddenly pressing her for information of other patients. He had, as he told her, left C-Sec and acquired a job as a security officer for the Sirta supplier on the Citadel. The Sirta Foundation had never been forthcoming in providing her supplies, as human affairs were mostly relegated as a secondary priority, but thanks to Aron, the supplies suddenly came regularly.

That was until Aron began monopolizing human medigel supplies to her clinic. The lack of funds to maintain the clinic, and the blackballing of the Volus Embassy had forced the human Embassy to retract funds required for maintaining the human outreach program. She had apologized to the patients for the limits on her supplies, and tried to tell Aron of the decreased requisitions. But the man had suddenly forced her to take all his surplus off his hands, pressing her into unwanted debt.

"I don't have that sort of money!" Chloe crossed her arms, defiantly.

Humans in the Galaxy. It was a recent thing. People changed within a lifetime; some desperate to make meaning, while others desperate to make means. The ilk of Aron Weaver were those whose dreams were dashed, then quickly turned to pick off of their less fortunate brethren. The heavy set man, who had only a few weeks ago brought pastry and coffee to her door, now roughly kicked one of her supplies over, crashing the contents along the clean sterile floor.

"I didn't hear you, Doc."

Almost on cue, Aron's friends started mulling into the small clinic. Five or six of them, constantly shifting about as they ignored the VI nurse asking for patient registry. Most of them were patients she were well acquainted with. Familiar faces that had turned brutish and vile, as if under a spell. But Chloe, though she sported a romantic flare, was a realist. She knew that no magical evil transformed these men. It was all merely the oppressive feeling of the Citadel. Humans were lost in the stars, scattered and dispersed, they wandered about like orphans.

"I'm calling C-Sec." She stated firmly.

Aron's arm shot out and gripped her hand. Aron was a manual laborer. The Citadel Law, more stricter than other places on banning any form of AI, had spilled over to restrict most forms of anthropomorphic automatons. The laborers here were strong, as his vice like grip pressed steadily down on her arm. His friends began gathering around, amused, but mostly trying to bolster his intimidation.

"All right, knock it off, boys." The voice from the door way was unfamiliar, as a bald headed man in C-Sec uniform entered.

Aron ignored the command, as some of his friends walked over to explain they were simply here for a checkup. The unfortunate friend of Aron soon regretted his decision. Space was a dangerous place for humans. The projectile, armed with the power of the Mass Effect field, passed through the man's skull, instantly embedding itself on the other side of the room.

Aron's grip vanished, and his hands were soon waving the air.

"Hey! Hey! We're leaving." Aron shouted, making himself scarce.

The C-Sec officer, walking calmly past the disappearing crowd, looked to be in his fifties, but could have been younger. Wrinkled and disheveled, his uniform was unkempt at best. He walked with a callous air, calm and enjoying himself. Chloe rushed over to the dead man on the floor, but was caught in the middle by the C-Sec officer. Before she knew what was happening, the C-Sec officer fired a careless bullet across the clinic from another gun he had drawn from his holster.

Chloe stopped in her tracks, watching in morbid fascination as the C-Sec officer planted the second gun in the man's hand.

"That's five thousand credits, honey." The C-Sec officer looked up at her, grinning.

"Wha... What?" Chloe stammered.

"Are you daft? For the gun." The C-Sec officer was explaining, in an irritated voice.

"I don't understand."

"This fellow here," the officer unkindly thumped the dead man. "tried to kill you. I shot him. Capiche?"

"But-"

"Name's Harkin." The man grinned with a full row of teeth. "You can pay me when I come over to collect the usual protection fees, okay, honey?"


	2. Code 246: Shooting at Inhabited Dwelling

**Code 246: Shooting at Inhabited Dwelling**

- November, 2178

"Rookies," The Lieutenant looked at the two shining Turians who stood in rigid attention. Turians were the backbone of C-Sec. From Executor Pallin, down to the lowest Rookie, you could count a Turian in direct succession to every department and every branch. The Lieutenant, though, was human. One of the first to join C-Sec when it opened up its quota to the new Citadel Embassy race. He had been a police officer in his youth on Earth, and despite his constant low key excuse that 'It payed better', he actually fostered a fascination with aliens that was almost inappropriate to his age. Usually humans were timid before Turians, but Lieutenant Bailey was laid back in the extreme that he didn't much care what his superiors thought as long as he could walk the beat.

"Commander Pallin will probably stick one with you, Bailey." rasped Corporal Jan Tolin, the only Volus in the entire C-Sec. He was forced on C-Sec after Din Korlack, the Volus Ambassador, cried Speceist Prejudice towards the Council. Jan barely got by as a C-Sec officer. Mostly driving the vehicle while his more long legged comrades did the foot work.

The two Turians, outwardly seemed typical Turians, but on close inspection, one could see that they were actually Palaven's creme de la creme. Both were from highly prestigious C-Sec families, both had served in the military with distinction, and both had a strong and very green enthusiasm for joining C-Sec, though their motives were actually in stark contrast with each other.

"What are you called, Rookie?" Bailey asked one of the Turians as he stirred his coffee.

"Arctus Chellick, sir." the Rookie replied warily.

"Chellick. Tirus Chellick's son." rasped Jan.

"Yeah," Bailey tasted his coffee. "recognized the face paint. Reminded me of your old man. Sorry about him, son. He was a good officer."

Chellick didn't reply. Bailey shrugged, moving on to the next rookie, peering deep into the next one's face, he caught himself gasping in surprise.

"I bet you guessed this one." Jan laughed as he stepped on a stool to get his side-arm.

"You're Vakarian, eh?" Bailey laughed. "Old Stoneface's kid."

"Garrus Vakarian, sir." the Turian replied, slightly miffed.

"How is the old man?" Bailey clapped the Rookie's shoulder, explaining. "He was the Executor when I joined the forces."

"Enjoying retirement, sir." The young Turian replied.

"By god," Bailey chuckled.

Jan jumped down from his stool as he started cleaning his weapon.

"I can't see why you're so amused, Bailey." Jan sniffed. "Executor Vakarian hated you."

"Pfft. No he didn't." Bailey laughed as he handed Jan his holster. "Welcome to the force, kids."

"Bailey," a new voice rank out, sharply down the hallway. The two senior officers, recognizing the voice, saluted immediately. The Rookies snapped into attention immediately recognizing the rank on the uniform. Commander Pallin was the commanding C-Sec officer of the Presidium ring and its upper and lower Wards. The Presidium C-Sec commander, distinct from other Ward Commanders, was usually in the running for making the next Executor. Either the dark skinned Turian knew this, or it was in his nature, the man was a strict and by the books as they came.

Pallin scowled at the two Rookies before stopping in front of the older officers. "We've got a 246 out on the Embassy level. Take one of the Rookies and go check it out."

"Which one, sir?" Tolin interjected, curious.

"How should I know?" Pallin scowled before walking away. Never one to show preference, he was annoyed that the Volus tried to put him on spot.

"He's more pleasant when... " Tolin explained to the Rookies, once the Executor was out of sight, "no.. I don't think he's ever pleasant."

Bailey pulled his holster from his locker, strapping it on. Both Rookies looked at him, intent and eager.

"You choose, Jan." Bailey grinned as he headed for the patrol car. The two of them were obviously enjoying playing seniority to fresh Turians. Both of them knew that how things progressed, the two new Constables would probably make Captain before them. Bailey judged they would make detective in a couple of years, outranking Tolin who had failed to make Lieutenant for seven years, now. Bailey had probably been stuck at Lieutenant for about eight years already.

"You're up Vakarian." Tolin decided to choose the one with the surviving family member still with enough political pull.

Bailey would have picked the pasty white one, who seemed more prone to lead a desk job if left to himself. But he agreed that the darker skinned Vakarian looked better to deploy immediately.

* * *

The three of them sped through access of Silversun Strip to the Tayseri Ward junction. The Tayseri ward usually housed the Asari district, but its junction clamored with socialite wanna-bes who tried to catch a bit of Asari political blessing as they were usually restricted from being housed in the second most expensive real-estate in the Citadel.

The call had originated from an Earth diplomatic representative's house, and preliminary reports told them that a passing unmarked sky-car had sprayed bullets through the villa window before disappearing. While others were already actively chasing the vehicle, it was up to the resident clean-up crew of the station, Bailey and Tolin, to check up on the victims.

"No need to pack your guns, kid." Bailey chuckled, noting that the Rookie had been constantly fidgeting with his side-arms. "You probably won't be firing anything today."

"I just like to know my guns are in proper working, sir." Garrus holstered his side-arm.

"You can waste your time looking up the address." Bailey replied, tossing the young Turian a data pad. "Give us a 'short brief'."

Garrus deftly activated his screen.

"The address belongs to a Donnel Udina. It's one of his... three residencies in the Citadel, not one he frequents to, it seems. Udina works at the human embassies, undersecretary to Anita Goyle."

Bailey frowned. "Bumped into Udina, once. One of the human get-together things that the Embassy throws to promote human civil service."

"Must be rich." rasped Tolin. "Three houses on the Citadel."

"One in the lower ward, where we're going. Another in Zakera. But his main residence is on the Presidium."

Bailey whistled. "Whoa. That's some serious money we're talking about."

"Why would someone with a residence in the Presidium, keep houses in the lower ward... and in Zakera Ward?" Garrus asked.

Bailey nodded. "Anything else you can tell me about Udina?"

Garrus scanned through the recent queries concerning Udina. "Recently appointed as a consular by the Systems Alliance-"

"How recent?" Bailey scratched his head. Rookies always left out the juicy bits. It was important to let them know that the details were everything.

"Just three months ago." Garrus continued.

"That's quite a short time to start buying up property in three different sectors."

Garrus nodded. "I've pulled up the transactions on those houses. All the house we're headed to was paid up by cash, through a local broker, Ira Kerr."

"I didn't know humans were selling junction point real estate." Tolin remarked.

"Neither did I?" Bailey shrugged.

"The Real Estate Agent checks out legit, though." Garrus offered.

"Let's just keep him on our suspect list, kid. Go on." Bailey leaned back.

Garrus continued his paper trail. "The house in Zakera Ward was also paid by Udina himself, but the Presidium villa was leased by the Alliance Embassy."

"So," Bailey closed his eyes. "A new Consular comes from Earth, buys the best property with Embassy loans - I'd say that one's for keeps- and then the two others out of his own pocket. Neither of those houses are... shall we say... investable."

"Is that a word?" Tolin scratched his head as he shifted engines to landing thrusters.

"It's not?" Bailey looked surprised.

"'Investable'..." Garrus rolled the word in his mouth. The patrol car landed in the yard. Bailey noted that the large front windows were shattered. The nearest patrol had already drawn a police line around the building.

"Talk to me, Rookie."

Bailey and Garrus got out of the vehicle, Tolin took a bit more time to do so. When Bailey and Tolin first partnered up, Bailey, in his excitement, had offered to pick Tolin up. Tolin had refused to talk to Bailey for a few weeks.

"Em... Drive by?" Garrus suggested.

"No kidding." Bailey pointed to several other vehicles that were parked. "Seems like they were having guests."

"Party?"

"Whatever diplomats do." Bailey led the Garrus indoors as Tolin, following behind checked up on the vehicles.

"Too early in the day for a party." Garrus cocked his head.

"Well, diplomats are strange animals. They meet people for a living." Bailey looked around at the furniture. "Not the type of stuff you'd expect someone who paid in cash would decorate with."

Garrus nodded. "Too tacky?"

"You don't say."

"I ... don't?" Garrus asked, confused.

Bailey furrowed his brows as he turned to face the Rookie. "My bad. Human expression... Sarcasm."

"I know sarcasm." Garrus frowned, upset. He had to admit, he was a bit lost when it came to conversing with humans. He had tried to study up on other species before he came to the Citadel, but alien nuances were vast and confusing. And somewhere he was sure he mixed up human expressions with salarian ones.

"Right." Bailey eyed Garrus suspiciously as Tolin entered the room.

"Cheep!" Tolin hissed.

"We got that part." Bailey proceeded upstairs to where the shooting took place.

"Reports say that there were fourteen guests." Garrus, curious to the lack of persons, had found out that the office had already processed the witnesses at the station. "Udina was running late. One human, the victim, a Grace Brisson-"

"Grace?" Tolin gasped.

"You know her?" Bailey turned at his friend, surprised.

"She worked for the Consort, Sha'ira." Tolin explained. "She was one of the accolytes-"

"Again, Jan. You know her?" Bailey stared.

"There's nothing wrong with visiting the Consort's chamber, Earth-clan." Tolin mumbled, defensively.

"What's a Consort?" Garrus whispered.

"Asari brothel on the Presidium." Bailey explained.

"The Consort's chamber is not a brothel, Bailey!" Tolin stomped his feet, which was cute, as it made his whole body ripple.

"There's an Asari brothel on the Presidium?" Garrus looked shocked.

"Services only the higher ups." Bailey explained his understanding of the facility. "Trades sex for favors and influence. That's a brothel if I've ever heard of one."

"That is not-" Tolin stammered.

"Didn't know you were into that sort of stuff." Bailey continued ignoring his partner. "Can't imagine how you'd do it either. Do they have Volus females there, too?"

"I just go there to talk!" Tolin pushed past Bailey. "Obviously I'm surrounded by the uncouth."

Bailey winked at Garrus, who still remained stymied. Garrus, perplexed continued cautiously.

"The victim was moved to C-Sec for forensics." Garrus paused. "That's odd."

"What's there to be odd about, Rookie?" Bailey shifted the broken glass around with his boots. "She died of food poisoning before the bullets hit her?"

"No, sir." Garrus seemed to sort out the facts in his head before continuing. "How come she was riddled with fifty bullet wounds, but she's the only one who was killed in this flyby?"

Bailey cocked his head to the side.

"The killers were reportedly two or three shooters." Tolin added.

Bailey, catching on, continued. "There are better ways to assassinate someone."

"Who'd want to target an acolyte Consort?" Garrus asked.

But the three were suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps at the stairs. None of the constables below, nor the VI police line had alerted them to the new presence. Bailey, understanding the situation, sighed and switched off his omni-tool. Tolin, stared in disbelief, before following suit. Only Garrus continued scanning the premises, not being able to catch the drift.

"This investigation is under Spectre authority." came the new voice, drawling, casually.

Garrus looked up to see a tall grayish Turian stepping over the glass, not even giving the trio a glance.

Bailey and Tolin were already at the stairs. When Garrus didn't seem to move, Bailey, annoyed, turned to call the young officer. As the Spectre passed Garrus as if he were invisible, Bailey saw that the Turian's mandibles tighten, and his head drooping almost as if in shame.

* * *

"Saren?" Commander Pallin tossed Bailey's report, purposefully into the waste bin. "Saren Areterius intervened? That's all you have to say?"

The trio were back at C-Sec Presidium precinct, which was adjoined with the C-Sec Academy. Pallin's office, like any other C-Sec officer's office, was small, cramped and littered with datapads. An unhealthy stack of instant meal containers had begun forming an architecture in the corner. The man was certainly a workaholic.

Bailey shrugged. "It's not the first time a Spectre intervened."

Pallin seemed to be practicing some routine he learned from a cheep counselor; he was closing his eyes and breathing slowly, mouthing numbers off a count. When he opened his eyes he seemed to have cooled down.

"That'll be all, gentlemen." Pallin parroted in a cheerful voice.

"There must be something wrong going on here if a Spectre is involv-" Garrus burst out, but was never able to finish his sentence, as he was forced to duck the flying data pad.

"Get The Damned Rookie Out!" Pallin screamed, vehemently pointing at the doorway.

Tolin was already scrambling out of the office as fast as his short legs could carry him. Bailey pulled the protesting Garrus away, barely missing another salvo of datapads.

They had to climb down two flights of stairs to get out of earshot of Pallin screaming his lungs off. Bailey and Tolin wordlessly nodded at each other and escorted the shocked Garrus to the rapid express skycar.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Jenna. You seem new here."

Garrus found himself staring at a scantily clad human waitress with a tight fitting skin suit. The Citadel was a dizzying place, a melting pot of all sorts of aliens. To say the Council races held the Citadel firmly within its grasp was a statement which oversimplified the situation. Deep under the Wards were Volus Engineers, Elcor construction workers, human recipients, Hanar merchants and Drell errand runners. There were even a stray Krogan or Quarian wandering around, adding color, making trades, and building up the mixed chaos of what has now become a dizzying life force that could never be simplified to simply Salarian, Asari or Turian.

"Jenna!" Tolin rasped happily.

"You just come to talk to Jenna, too, right?" Garrus asked glumly.

"Huh?" Jenna's empty face became more blank.

"Of course I just come here to talk!" the optics in Tolin's suit seemed to flash.

Bailey returned from the men's room and slumped down beside Garrus, drawing an arm over the young Turian.

"Don't take it so hard, Garrus." Bailey nodded at Jenna to fill his glass with his regular poison. "With all this mess of races scattered over the Citadel, someone above the law, cutting right to the chase is sometimes a necessity."

"Besides," Tolin received his vaporous intoxicant in a jar which he connected to his pressure suit. "We get out paycheck either way. And it usually looks good on your file if you worked a case that got intervened. Usually means that you were onto something, right?"

"But we didn't even skim the surface." Garrus complained. "Besides! Who watches the watchman?"

Bailey furrowed his brows. "Who the What? You're making no sense, kid."

"What if that Saren fellow is up to something?" Garrus argued hotly. "What if he's covering something?"

"Just give it up, Garrus." Bailey sighed. "It's what every C-Sec officer has to go through at some point. Spectres are there for a reason. They keep the last line of peace. I had a bad vibe when you said we were investigating a diplomat. That usually ends up in Spectre jurisdiction."

"You should have joined the Spectres, kid." Tolin chuckled, coughing from the intoxicating fumes.

"No." Garrus flared. "I have to believe that things can be solved through the proper course of investigat-"

"Are you going to order something?" Jenna interrupted.


	3. Syndesmosis Injury

**Syndesmosis Injury**

True to his word, Harkin came around every week. The fee was a thousand credits and free medigel. Sometimes the medigel he took cost more than the protection fee; those were the days he came with a duffel bag. As there were few enough human merchants around the upper ward, Chloe couldn't tell if she was the only person being ripped off in this manner. The former director of the clinic had warned her of 'difficulties' making ends meet when she first set foot in the clinic three months ago, but she had thought that those difficulties were mostly due to the lack of human patients. She had been determined to help humanity's efforts in making a stand in the Galaxy in whatever way she could help. But this difficulty had come entirely out of the blue. Out here on humanity's frontiers, it was not the aliens who were inhibiting humanity's growth. Humans were cannibalising each other.

She had tried contacting the embassy again, asking for funding to maintain the clinic. But due to the recent anti-human activities, most notably the shootings on the human diplomat's home, had cowed the embassy into inaction. The subsequent Solidarity movements from the civilian sector only incensed other secondary races into a more defensive stance. Hence, now even the Quarian patients had dwindled.

Chloe locked up the clinic and stepped out into the Wards. The night air was... the same sterile air as the morning, regulated and with an unidentifiable alien odor that Chloe suddenly felt sick of.

She needed a drink.

Wrapping herself tightly in her coat, she made her way down to the Lower Wards where the bar she had received so many patients from, but had never gone herself, was. Chora's Den, where no-one knows your name, and even if they had, would forget the next morning. Chloe was not much of a drinker. Through medical school Chloe had refrained from even touching alcohol. Even after she graduated, she only took a few drinks to appease her sponsors when she set up the ambitious project of reopening the human clinic on the Citadel. But now, despite having never over imbibed herself, she felt like she needed a drink.

With her current state of mind, she even stumbled a bit, as if already drunk, swaggering into the bar. It was just like she imagined. Drunk people scattered here and there, slumped over their drink, barely propping themselves up. Boisterous voices rang out randomly, peppered with sobbing here and there. Asari strippers, not caring of whether the drunk before them watched, but obviously armed to the teeth in biotics should anyone molest them, danced as if they were in another world. The bar was packed.

Chloe made her way to the empty stool at the bar where a human waitress was sorting the drinks on the counter.

"What'll it be, hon?" The waitress did not look up.

"What sort of human drinks do you have?" Chloe asked cautiously.

"All sorts." the waitress replied, still not looking up.

"Do you have a wine list?" Chloe asked, deciding she would have to choose for herself.

"A what?" The waitress finally looked up.

"I'll have a glass of red wine, then." Chloe compromised.

"No Red wine, honey."

"But..." Chloe frowned. "A Chardonay, then."

"You'll have a beer." The waitress set a pint of beer before Chloe before turning away.

"I'll have a beer." Chloe replied to no one, sighing deeply as now she couldn't seem to even get drunk the way she wanted.

Chloe stared at the glass of beer before her. She knew that beer was supposed to be foamy, which it was not, and golden, which it could be in the right light. But something told her that she would be disappointed. The beer before her overlapped with her poor clinic before her eyes; humans just could not get the service they required on the Citadel.

"Hey, Jenna!" a drunk Turian beside her barked. "Fill it up again."

The waitress snarled as she filled the Turian's glass with purple liquid. "For the tenth time, Turian, Jenna's gone for the night! So are your friends, so pay up or put it on your tab; I want you out."

"Everybody wants me out." slurred the Turian as he slumped over onto Chloe, toppling her beer. The Turian was heavier than he looked, probably due to the full body armor he was sporting. Desperate to get the Turian off her, she shoved him off of her, only in her horror to watch him stumble over to the other side toppling over a very menacing looking Krogan's drink.

"That does it!" the Krogan slammed his fist down on the counter. The Krogan's fist immediately connected with the Turian's face, sending him flying off into the an Asari stripper. The Asari, however, had noticed the incoming Turian and had immediately sent a biotic missile, knocking the Turian to the side. Another biotic projectile burst into her hand and immediately homed in on the Krogan.

And just before her eyes, Chloe watched in horror as a full fledged bar fight erupted before her eyes. The Krogan, armed with all the guns a small wheel barrel could carry began firing pot shots at the Asari. The other Asari strippers, noticing their sister in peril, began flinging vengeful biotic attacks at the Krogan. The other patrons either in panic, or seeing their chance to flee without paying, began rushing to the exit. While Krogan were usually self serving mercenaries, bar fights were something they relished.

Chloe barely returned to her senses as direct and deflected shot gun pellets began raining down around her. She hurried to hide behind a toppled table, trying to seek the exit from the safety of cover. She found the Turian whom she had tossed at the Krogan had cozily landed behind the table, joining her in her hiding place. As the battle between the drunken Krogan and the Asari strippers took heat, Chloe decided she had better start making herself scarce. But looking down on the Turian, she could easily estimate that he would probably be dead if she left him like this. A rush of guilt at having tossed him into the Krogan washed over her. Her self preservation instincts began cursing her wildly, as she rolled the Turian along the floor toward the exit.

The Turian was heavy, but at least his armor formed a round cylindrical shape around his body that it was easier to roll that she had expected. She was crawling on all fours, shoving the Turian along, and almost halfway to the exit when a giant Krogan suddenly appeared before her, stomping down on the Turian's right leg. The Krogan, flaming with blood lust in his eyes, aimed his hand cannon at Chloe's face.

Chloe's life rushed before her eyes, facing down the barrel of the poor excuse for a bazooka to be called a pistol. She imagined that maybe the Turian would suddenly come to his senses and fire at the Krogan. Or perhaps the Turian's 'friends' that the waitress had mentioned would suddenly swoop in and save them. But neither seemed to be happening. Instead, the Krogan, obviously too intoxicated, fired wildly, missing them both. By the time the Krogan had rearmed himself, Chloe had grabbed a pistol lying on the floor and hastily fired at the Krogan.

Chloe excelled in xenobiology, which was one of the reasons she had planned on setting up a clinic on the Citadel. Krogans had two hearts and an amazing regenerative nervous system. They also sported impenetrable thick hides impervious to most small arms. But the magic bullet Chloe had fired ricocheted off the Krogans front jaws, and after loosing speed from shattering the incisors, lodged itself in the Krogan's trachea. The Krogan began gasping for breath and choking. Chloe tossed her weapon aside in panic and quickly rolled the drunken Turian passed the Krogan, making her exit as a biotic blast erupted behind her.

* * *

Chloe swore to the Virgin Mary to never drink again in her life, as she placed the drunken Turian on the examining bed of her clinic. She had never treated a Turian before, but she was well versed in general emergency procedures for the Council races, which had been a requisition for any physician licensed to practice on the Citadel. Despite having survive being tossed around a bar room brawl, the Turian had remained surprisingly unharmed. Other than the self inflicted liver damage from the alcohol, the Turian only sported a surprisingly mild injury profile. The most severe injury was a ruptured ligament joining his two distal lower extremities bones. Surgery was required.

The myth of medigel to the uninitiated, was that it was a cure-all revitalizer. The truth was that it sped up the regeneration process. For lesser animals, like lizards, medigel would work wonders, immediately restoring amputated extremities. But to higher animals where the regenerative function was shut off and replaced with tissue scarring, medigel worked to regenerate tissues in an undirected generalized manner. Hence, for some extensive injuries surgery was still required, while chronic debilitating diseases still had to be cured in the conventional sense.

The ligaments holding the lower leg bones together had ruptured but the bones remained strong, as was expected of most Turian injuries. They had reach but not much flexibility. She began working on the Turian, opening his wounds, debriding the tissue margins, then stitching the ligaments together as the medgel mended the rupture. She could have just had him strapped in a cast, and called C-Sec to pick him up, but she didn't want to get involved with C-Sec anymore than she did right now.

When she had finished, placing his leg in a cast, applying intravenous fluid and administering pain killers, she found it was two hours until morning. She cursed herself. She had never had to lose sleep like this since her residency. She pulled out a patient blanket and jumped on the adjoining patient bed.

* * *

When Chloe awoke, it was to the scent of rich coffee. The light was shining down brightly on her face. It was cozy, lazy and warm, like being back at home.

And then she remembered it was a work day. And that she had patients coming in, and shipments to receive. She jumped up with a jolt, screaming.

"Calm down." the clinic was empty. The voice came from her private office, tucked in the deep corner of the clinic. The Turian from last night had gotten up and was hobbling over with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"You should be in bed." She glared at him as the Turian handed her a cup of coffee. She took a sip; it tasted awful.

"I saw some vids on how to make one of them." The Turian, oblivious to its taste, boasted mildly.

"You should be lying down." She repeated.

"And you should have been up, but I've taken the liberty to close the office for the morning." The Turian seated himself on the opposing bed.

"You did what?" Chloe almost dropped her cup.

"You didn't seem fit for duty." The Turian replied unfazed. "Doctors should never see patients when they're overworked."

"You don't know much about doctors, do you?" Chloe sighed, resignedly.

"And I also don't know much about how I got here." The Turian looked around, then tapping his cast. "And how I got this."

"No," Chloe shook her head, bemused. "I bet not."

"Just to get my meaning across a bit clearer, I was inquiring as to how I got these injuries." The Turian persisted. Chloe had tried to be tactful and polite, but seeing as how annoying he was becoming, she began relating to the events of last night, watching his eyes widen in horror and his jaws drop. Frankly, she enjoyed watching his smug and sure attitude crumble.

"Satisfied?" She smiled sweetly.

"I.." The Turian twitched his head. "Garrus Vakarian."

"Huh?"

"I'm Garrus Vakarian." The Turian clarified. "I'm in your debt, it seems. Thank you."

"Chloe Michel." Chloe replied, and to a choice she would regret for the rest of her life, added, "But you can ALWAYS call me 'Doctor Michel'. Clear?"


	4. Code 419: Dead Human Body

**Code 419: Dead Human Body**

- December, 2178

Aron Weaver returned to his normal cheerful self, almost oblivious to the fact that one of his cronies had died in the clinic just last month. Harkin's visits became less frequent as well. He seemed to be uneasy on how to progress with Garrus Vakarian frequenting the clinics so often. Garrus, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the effect he was causing around the clinic when he came by to check up on how his leg was healing. The Turian was a bit of a wimp, and winced every so often to the slightest infractions that made Chloe roll her eyes and often venture to become a bit more blunt than she had to. However she appreciated the effect Garrus was having on the clinic. Other patients also seemed to feel safer that a Turian C-Sec officer was frequenting and her clientele had now improved to include even some humans who could probably have afforded the better alien oriented hospitals. Despite the changes Chloe never spoke about Harkin's activities to Garrus directly.

Somehow, for some indescribable reason, she felt it demeaned her to ask Garrus for help. She prided herself for maintaining the clinic by herself, setting up shop in the Citadel on her own. She had never needed saving from anyone, and certainly not from a green C-Sec constable whom she had saved from a gunfight.

Chloe had checked the balance last night and found that she was finally making some surplus, and felt brave enough to expand the clinic's capabilities to include some more serious treatment regimens. Tissue transplants, cancer treatment, and genetic modifications were on the list, and Chloe was able to have Aron drop by while Garrus was about. Aron, wary of Garrus's presence, and now wanting to shy away from dealing with Chloe, had arranged for another Sirta representative to meet with her. Sirta's new representative, smelling good money, had quickly arranged for Chloe to meet with their expert tissue engineer.

The esteemed scientist was visiting the Citadel for a tour lecture at the Taralos Amphitheator in Kithoi Ward, and Sirta had arranged for Chloe to attend the private party planned afterwards.

"You want me to accompany you to a lecture." Garrus stared at Chloe as she placed his leg in her lap to remove the cast.

"Do you have anything better to do?" Chloe put on her goggles and fired up the laser cutter. Garrus twitched, alarmed at device closing in on his leg. Chloe, annoyed grabbed his toes from inching away and began cutting through the cast.

"Do humans usually ... go to Lectures?" Garrus had placed both hands on his knees defensively.

"It's a Salarian giving the lecture, Garrus." Chloe explained. "Not exactly just a human thing. Besides, I know that you just hang out at the bar with your cop buddies after work. Think of it as..." she paused, to catch the right word, "... getting the pulse on the beat."

"Sorry, no, Doctor Michel. Not my thing."

"You've been on traffic duty since Chora's Den, Garrus." Chloe reminded him. "You might meet people at the party. This is as much a favor to me as it is to you."

Garrus had been relegated to handing out speeding tickets since Pallin found out about the mess at Chora's den. Chloe had been called in as witness, bluntly lying that Garrus had save her life that day, as she guessed that it hardly did her any good to say she saved the drunken cop. But the Krogan that had ate the bullet, and somehow survived, had turned up to testify otherwise. It ended up as his word against hers, and the C-Sec brass had decided not to discharge Garrus.

"That's not how I plan to get ahead in life, Doctor Michel." Garrus replied stiffly.

"And how's that working out for you?" Chloe asked, putting her tools down for a moment.

Garrus declined to answer. Bull headed, she thought to herself.

"Well, Garrus," Chloe finally peeled the cast off and watched Garrus test his toes and ankle. "This is not exactly what I dreamed about on the frontier of xenomedicine, but we take it as it comes, don't you say?"

"I'll think about it." Garrus hopped off the bed and tried walking around, with a satisfied smile across his face.

"Good to go?" Chloe asked, expectantly.

"Great job, Doctor Michel." Garrus replied curtly. "I'll get back to you on the..."

"Date?" Chloe jabbed at him, knowing it would make him uncomfortable.

"Educational experience." Garrus corrected her.

* * *

"I see you're fit for duty again, Garrus."

Garrus had just entered the C-Sec academy building that was adjacent to the Precinct. He had wished to avoid Pallin, but the Commander's trajectory was never clear, and that fateful morning, Pallin was just exiting the building as he entered. Garrus could see Chellick was closely following the Commander; the setup seemed obvious as Chellick, holding a stack of datapads, seemed to have been parroting off the recent reports to the Commander. During his rotation on Traffic control, Chellick had lodged himself as Pallin's adjutant, filtering reports and regulating his schedule.

"Sir." Garrus replied ambiguously.

"Chellick has told me a lot about you, Garrus." Garrus looked quizzically at his friend, but Chellick looked away, seemingly busy. "Time to whet your teeth on something that suits your ... tenacity."

"Yes, sir." Garrus replied warily.

"Homicide reports they've found some human remains down in the incinerator tunnels." Pallin held a hand out as Chellick quickly laid the associated datapad in his hand. "Normally I'd say it was the keepers acting up again. But our resident forensics says otherwise."

Garrus received the datapad from Pallin, flipping through the details, wondering what Chellick had said about him.

"Unfortunately, our resident forensics can't make head or tails about it other than that." Pallin continued. "Since you're so chummy with the human folk, I'd like you to look into it. See what you can dig up."

"Yes, sir." Garrus replied. "I'll get right on it."

"Team up with Bailey. Don't create too much of a fuss." Pallin began walking away. "I don't want the Spectres intervening, again. Keep it low key."

Chellick kept avoiding Garrus's gaze as they exited the complex.

Garrus looked down at his datapad, again. Seven bodies near the incinerator, at least the number of heads were seven. Some limbs were unaccounted for. Keepers, Garrus had heard, had a tendency to cannibalize the bodies from time to time. The initial report had stated that it was probably keeper activity, and the unwitting humans were probably victims who had gotten lost in the keeper tunnels.

He would have to meet the Precinct forensics officer, first.

* * *

Doctor Lurol, the Salarian forensics officer was draped in a thick body suit that regulated his temperature in the cold conditions of the morgue. Bailey was shivering and cursing, as neither Tolin nor Garrus seemed to mind the cold.

"Of course it wasn't the keepers." Lurol was annoyed. He had a stack of bodies and had enough difficulty trying to match who's arms belonged where. "Did you even read my reports?"

"We've come across some difficulties-" Garrus tried starting out, but Bailey, who was too cold to care interrupted.

"We're stupid, okay? In Layman terms, please."

Lurol shoved them a small bristling piece of twisted metal. The grayish metal was adorned with wires going in and out of its surface, though Garrus had to admit he had never seen such wires before. But what was curious to him was how the metal seemed "dead". It felt weird and indescribable, but somehow he felt that the piece of metal had once been alive at some point.

"So?" Bailey almost snapped.

"I barely extracted these things from the pile of limbs," Lurol explained. "at first I thought they were shrapnel, and that some explosion had cut these limbs off. But the limbs had been dead for some time, each limb had also been dead for a different period of time, as well. And every limb had some form of metallic implant, like this, deeply embedded."

"You couldn't put that on paper?" Bailey rolled his eyes.

Lurol had at some point, decided to ignore Bailey, and naturally turned to the Turian.

"They were experimented on." Lurol replied. "Not something the keepers are usually known for."

* * *

Bailey returned to his senses as he warmed down a bit. Chloe had been surprised that Garrus had brought his 'drinking buddies' over to her clinic, but was more surprised when Garrus explained that it was business.

She offered Bailey a cup of warm coffee as she sat down at her tissue microscope to examine the fragment of metal that Garrus had brought.

"Implants are common in humans." Chloe explained as she pushed the piece of metal around with a forceps. "We try to make up for our shortcoming in any way possible. Biotic epgrades... implants. Bullet proof hides... implants. Resistance to toxins... implants."

"It's not the norm, Doctor." Bailey reminded Chloe, ruefully.

"No it's not." Chloe replied. "It's just what humans are. No other species tries to modify themselves so heavily. I'm not going to go philosophical on this, whether I feel this is right or wrong. It's simply that human desires have pushed us into engineering on humans. Most of these 'inhuman' experiments have mostly been performed by humans."

"Don't the other species-" Bailey tried defending humanity.

"No." Chloe shook her head firmly, turning to the C-Sec officers. "No other species experiments on themselves as much as we do. Asari tend to be more respectful of themselves, even more than the reverence deferred by other species. Krogans hallow the body, and have deep religious misgivings against invading the flesh, which has only been bolstered by the Genophage. Salarians would experiment on everyone else, and sometimes they would experiment on humans, but the amount never reaches what humanity does to itself."

"Does that mean we're looking for a Salarian or a Human?" Tolin, who had wordlessly fidgeted about the clinic suddenly interjected.

"Good question." Bailey nodded.

"All I can tell you for now," Chloe shook her head. "is that it's not manufacture grade implants. It's definitely experimental."

"That's not much." Garrus sighed dismissively.

"And another things is," Chloe added, glaring at Garrus. "is that it seems to have incorporated some of the organic material into its structure."

* * *

Chloe blasted up the microphotographs on the screen. With magnification the metalic structures, and what had seemed to be wires now looked a lot more organic in nature. Of course, anyone with a passing glance would have assumed it was simple circuitry. But as Chloe began pointing out the oddities, the officers uniformly began feeling a shudder running down their spine.

"... These structures," Chloe indicated, pointing at the round spherical objects connected like nodes to another structure. "seem like clusters of peripheral ganglia. Neural hubs which receive and collate signals. They're sheathed in this film like structure, as one would expect to find in a naturally grown organism, but doesn't lend any benefit when you construct robotics."

"We'll have to take your word for it on that one, Doctor." Bailey frowned suspiciously.

"I admit I'm just speculating here," Chloe explained. "but I've designed robotic limbs for patients before. Usually the VI program tries to simplify the designs and functions to a producible manner. You don't go simulating the entire nervous system bit by bit. It's unfeasible."

Bailey nodded, convinced.

"I'm not saying the piece of metal you've given me can't be generated by program. But it's not the design of preference when you're aiming to simply reproduce a function of a lost limb."

"Then what would you say the function of this 'conversion' would be?" Garrus scratched his head.

"Logically," Chloe seated herself. "if I were a designer who implemented such technology, it would be a crude process involving nano-drones building from the bottom up."

The blankness on their faces betrayed the leap of ideas again.

"Let's assume," Chloe began explaining. "that I'm aiming to convert a whole body, or partial organ or limb, with cybernetics. Normally, I'd design a functioning whole and work down to the details to incorporate whatever minuscule details that I would want, becoming more complex as I go."

Everyone nodded, to her relief.

"That sort of process," she continued, "wouldn't require such detailed simulacra of the organic body, except only at the extreme end of the conversion. But you said that this sample was acquired from the tissue itself. So that's obviously not the case."

This time, Tolin nodded first, followed shortly by Garrus and Bailey.

"On the other end of things, let's turn the process on its head. Let's say that I'm trying to build a cybernetic organism, no idea how it would function in the end, but set up a principle of conversions to build from the bottoms up, cell-by-cell. You can assume, if I had been making a one hundred percent perfect copy, I would completely be able to replace the entire organism in the end. Still with me?"

She waited until everyone nodded.

"So if I were to, say, planning on replacing Garrus with a perfect metallic simulacra of him, I could either build from the top down, designing a head, body, torso and all. And as the versions progress, build more detailed versions of him by building eyebrows, frills, fingers, and further down the road I could eventually create an exact copy of Garrus who can even simulate minuscule sweat glands.

"But the different strategy, would be to build Garrus cell by cell into a replacement mechanical contraption and hope that in the end each cell perfectly encapsulates the function of their original copy. This latter strategy may require more advanced technology, may be more time consuming, but it also has the benefit of the 'cascade' effect. That is, once you start the process in motion, it would progress naturally until it's completed. Such ideas have been toyed around as nano-droids before, but none were successful. Especially since artificial intelligence research is banned in Council space."

It took a while until everyone processed her words, but eventually, one by one, everyone's face began brightening up.

"So you're saying." Garrus began, sorting out the ideas in his head. "That this piece of metal was replacing the limb, cell-by-synthetic-cell at a time?"

"Exactly." Chloe nodded. "It serves no purpose as an implant on its own. Its design does not necessarily convey any reason to its detail. I can't say WHY anyone would do such a thing, but people often perform stupid things because they CAN."

Bailey whistles softly. "I'm never going to be able to write this down as a report."

"We're still in the dark as to who was behind this." Garrus replied. "Any idea where we can start, Doctor Michel?"

"I can't help you there, Garrus." Chloe shrugged. "What I've told you is all speculative. It's my area of interest, but I can say for sure that no published reports even hint that such a thing is possible with the technology today."


	5. Amputation

**Amputation**

Chloe immediately regretted asking for more information.

Doctor Lurol was more than happy to outsource for help and had immediately transferred all the body parts to her freezer. Chloe never thought that as a Doctor she would ever regret saving someone's life. But now as she sorted through limbs and body parts and the mess that Lurol had caused by bluntly extracting the metallic parts from the bodies, she secretly cursed the day she went down to Chora's den for a drink.

Bailey and Tolin had volunteered to go down to the keeper tunnels near the incinerator to check up on the scene of the crime. Garrus remained in the clinic, with nothing much to do but watch Chloe at her work and bear the brunt of her anger.

"And I asked you if you could accompany me to the Sirta foundation lectures." Chloe continued processing a piece of tissue through the DNA sequencer. "You couldn't even say 'yes' to that."

"I said I'd think about it." Garrus shrugged defensively. "Which could have ended up as a 'yes'."

"Arm 15 belongs to Head 3." Chloe matched the Sequencer results and tossed the arm at Garrus.

* * *

Keeper tunnels belonged to ghosts and goblins, and of course Keepers. The strange beings that hailed to no calls known to anyone, yet seemed to sport some communication device served obviously friendly functions to the uninitiated. But for those who spent some time on the Citadel, they were a silent terror. Bogey man stories and urban legends surrounded how Keepers would come in at night and take a baby in a crib to the incinerator, or false statistics that would say that seventy percent of missing persons cases could be traced to the Keepers.

Bailey knew the statistics, and new that they stole no child from any crib, but the tunnels spooked him none-the-less. It was basic C-Sec training to learn how to travel the tunnels, but no C-Sec officer was ever happy with such a job, and it certainly never ended up as a routine detail. You were trained how to survive the shifting environments, how to make it back to the surface of the Wards, how to Not incite the Keepers, but no one could boast that the Keeper tunnels was like a second home. However, it certainly beat sorting through dismembered body parts.

Even Tolin, who would generally have preferred a stationary job, had opted to follow Bailey into the tunnels than stare at severed human heads for the evening.

"Ever heard of what happened at the Udina place?" Tolin asked as he shuffled along, reading the signals that navigated them towards the Incinerator.

"I heard that a Spectre intervened." Bailey replied bluntly. When you served as long as Bailey in C-Sec, you got accustomed to not thinking about a lot of things. Spectres, Keepers, the Council, STG and Mass Relays, all fell into the category of 'won't get any answers'.

"The word on the street is that Grace was involved in Blue-Suns narcotics drive."

"Who's Grace?" Bailey furrowed his brows, feigning ignorance.

"The acolyte of Sha'ira." Tolin growled, purring like a cat. "You know who I'm talking about!"

Bailey shrugged. "I heard that a Spectre intervened."

"Anyway," Tolin continued, ignoring Bailey. "That doesn't make sense, because the acolytes don't do drugs. Sha'ira would never allow that."

"Huh," Bailey snorted. "I don't allow drugs either. Doesn't drop the flow of Narcotics in my precinct."

The Incinerator was coming up. No police line marked the spot, as Keepers would usually discard them, anyway. Only a small drone hovered about marking the spot.

"Identifying, Detective Bailey, Corporal Tolin, C-Sec." The drone chirped. "You are authorized to investigate the area. Please file report 3F45 form B when completed."

"Damn paperwork." Bailey muttered.

"Your turn." Tolin reminded him.

There was little point in actually investigating the site, as the Keepers would usually clear away superfluous material periodically, which made the Keeper tunnels an ideal place to hide evidence. But actually visiting the Keeper tunnels did serve a purpose to get the bearings on the situation. Geography shifted frequently within the tunnels, but not as frequent as some criminals hoped to believe. Sometimes the walls would stay stationary for years without change. Sometimes blood residue would remain for days without being cleared.

It was a constant throughout every civilization that there was no such thing as a 'Master Criminal'. Criminals tended to be stupid, less educated than their law enforcing counterparts. Had they been smarter, criminals would probably use the system than resort to extremities. Even crimes with such intellectual flavor eventually crumbled to dust when the collective minds of law enforcement descended. The cop's job was to find every link available and wear it out.

Bailey and Tolin began scanning for irregularities around the area.

It wasn't long until Bailey found irregular scorch marks on the ground.

"Hey Jan!" Bailey called his partner over. "Take a look at this."

Tolin hobbled over to where Bailey was. On the ground were four rectangular shapes forming the corners of a square, each about a foot apart from each other. The shapes were repeated for about half a dozen times over the area and stenciled to the floor with a fine layer of sooth.

"Something stood here." Bailey observed. "Left marking on the ground, gathering sooth where the legs didn't cover."

Tolin took photos, analyzing the patterns on the spot. "The pattern is almost identical to the nanometer, but the layout is in random, just evenly spaced-ish, but nothing with precision."

"The covering of the sooth looks about matching the decaying body parts. How many patterns?" Bailey got up.

"Thirteen." Tolin finished cataloging the patterns.

"How many heads?" Bailey wondered aloud.

"Twelve." Tolin replied.

"We're missing a head." Bailey concluded, grimly.

* * *

"We're missing everything but a finger." Chloe concluded when Bailey and Tolin returned with their findings. "And that finger is actually completely mechanical."

She showed them a small robotic appendage that had been mixed with the metallic parts.

"There is not even a skin flake connected with this finger."

"It doesn't look like a finger." Bailey frowned, scrutinizing the small appendage.

"We believe it's been crushed." Garrus offered. "Doctor Michel barely identified it from the number of pseudo ligaments flapping at the edge."

"I identified it quite easily, Officer Vakarian." Chloe sniffed indignantly.

"That was supposed to be a compliment, Doctor Michel." growled Garrus.

"Then let me compliment you on how you BARELY managed to help me." Chloe shot back.

Bailey and Tolin shared a concerned glance, not wanting to lose their pre-eminent cybernetic homicide expert.

"Calm down, you two." Bailey waved them back. "Take a look at what we found."

Tolin hobbled over to the view screen and transferred the patterns from the incinerator floor.

"What am I looking at?" Chloe stepped up, observing the patterns.

"The patterns repeat themselves." Tolin explained what he found.

"A pattern for each body." Garrus nodded. "But we only have a cybernetic finger for the last one."

"The finger itself has been the largest single cybernetic part we've identified." Chloe added. "We've been able to piece together where the other parts have come from. As I've postulated, the pieces were mostly developed randomly around the body. Your forensics also left a lot of single cell or clusters of cells to small to identify in the body as well. I think I may have been right in thinking that someone had been converting organic tissue into cybernetic constructs."

"Have all the other organic parts been accounted for?" Bailey asked.

"No," Garrus shook his head. "We're still missing a lot of body parts. It's just that none of the fingers were missing. We've never been able to construct a full body from these parts."

"Any identification on the bodies?"

"We've identified them all." Garrus nodded. "At least we can return to normal police work from here."

"You sound relieved." Chloe glared at Garrus.

"What did I say?" Garrus panicked.

* * *

Pallin carefully scrolled down the report as Bailey, Tolin and Garrus stood waiting. Pallin finally set the report down, and folded his hands.

"There's nothing here." Pallin concluded.

"Sir?" Garrus blurted.

"Names were already identified by forensics." Pallin continued. "What you have here is a bunch of speculation by an unauthorized source, and marking on the floor."

"But the finger-" Garrus objected.

"Is it a finger? From a person? It could be anything." Pallin growled. "I want facts, not speculation. Come back when you have something."

They turned to leave, Bailey and Tolin seemingly not disappointed in the least. They had expected as much, but Garrus had been too excited to calm down that they decided to humor him.

"Garrus," Pallin called the younger Turian back.

"Sir." Garrus returned to Pallin's desk.

"I expected more than those aliens from you." Pallin frowned. "I expect you to take charge of the investigation. Show them what Turians are made of. Don't come back to me with this half baked piece of garbage. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Garrus could sense that Pallin was trying to be fatherly to him, but he still felt discouraged that Pallin wasn't supporting their theories.

"Speculations and wild theories are for humans. Playing it safe is for the Volus. I want facts, hard and direct, befitting a Turian. Dismissed."

* * *

"This is NOT a date," Garrus informed Chloe as they made their way to the Ryuusei's in Silversun Strip. Chloe had missed the Sirta Lectures and saw no point in fraternizing at the after lecture party. Garrus had offered to take her to dinner as a consolation. Initially he had suggested Chora's den, but the look on her face required no cultural interaction videos to decipher. "It's more like..."

"An Apology?" Chloe suggested.

"A thank you." Garrus corrected her. "Besides, I've been wanting to run a few details on those bodies with you."

Chloe groaned. "I have a life, Vakarian. And the last time we were at a bar, I was dragging you out of a bar fight. You have a lot to make up for than a simple 'thank you'."

"Believe me," Garrus continued sheepishly. "I have every intention to apologize to you. Human customs are difficult to grasp."

"And you've discovered that taking me out to dinner is a good way to make up for it?"

"That's what the vids said." Garrus replied defensively.

"I am seriously questioning what sort of vid library you have, Garrus."

"Oh," Garrus began explaining, "the standard Citadel Security Services guide to interspecies interactions and culture."

"That was sarcasm." Chloe explained.

"I wish you were an Elcor." Garrus sighed.

"You are impossible, Garrus." Chloe sighed, tired of being offended any more.

The maitre-de greeted them at the door, checked their reservations and let them wait in the line.

"You're early, Monsieur." the maitre-de smiled faintly with a snobbish air and a thick french accent. "Your seats are not available. You will 'ave to wait... thirty minutes."

"Nous sommes à l'heure, Monsieur." Chloe interjected. "Vérifiez à nouveau, s'il vous plaît."

"Uh..." The Maitre-de stammered, suddenly dropping the accent. "Sorry. I'm not actually french."

Chloe glared at the Maitre-de who seemed to dissolve into a puddle.

"I'll see if any seats are vacant."

"Turians have unified our language long ago." Garrus remarked casually. "I don't see the benefit of maintaining non standard language for a species."

"Je t'encule." Chloe muttered.

The maitre-de hurried back and led them to their seats beside a fish tank.

"I have no idea why this restaurant was so difficult to reserve." Garrus commented.

"If you're going to criticize my customs all night, I'm going to leave now." Chloe glowered at him.

The menu had food for various species, but tended to focus on the uncooked variety from the sea. Turian/Quarian dextro food was limited to a small selection, none of which seemed to be comfortable with Garrus.

"The food is ... interesting." Garrus noted.

"We have more conventional Turian food, monsieur." The waiter handed them another menu, which Garrus seemed to appreciate immensely.

"I have no idea why humans could process another sentient species for food while it's still alive."

"Am I going to regret this dinner, Garrus?"

"Sorry, about that." Garrus chuckled.

Desperate to change the subject, Chloe decided to talk about Garrus, which she believed was his favorite subject.

"So, why did you join C-Sec, Garrus?"

"My Father was C-Sec." Garrus explained, pausing, trying to sum up why he joined. "I suppose my father tried instilling in me the sense of Justice."

"Justice." Chloe rolled the word about. "It's such an abstract thing to be pursuing, isn't it?"

"Well," Garrus paused. "you can believe that it's abstract, apply metaphysical meaning to right and wrong. But my father never believed that perpetrators and victims dealt in boundary conditions. In a practical sense, there is always someone out there trying to screw someone over."

"You mean that you are focusing on intent rather than outcomes?" Chloe challenged.

"Outcomes and intent only divorce in petty infractions and accidents." Garrus obviously thought a lot about this matter. "When things turn serious, there's always a perp."

"You believe in the system." Chloe suggested.

"I... " Garrus fumbled, thinking back to the involvement with the Spectre. "I want to believe that the system is right. It's like your cybernetic cell conversions. If we build up from a principle, the whole must become a perfect representation, and extrapolation of that principle."

Chloe frowned, immediately. "I never said that I believed that the bottoms-up method was superior than designing something from top-down, Garrus."

"You've said so yourself." Garrus explained his allegory. "You said it would take a far more advanced technology to sufficiently recreate the bottoms up conversion."

"Who's to say, Garrus?" Chloe shook her head. "Let's say there are two completely similar reconstructions of Garrus Vakarian. One, built from the top down design, constantly accommodating to adapt to every unforeseen nuance. Another, built from the bottoms up, proceeding militantly at replicating everything from the cellular level. I can assure you that the former is sure to function, since its premise was built on modifications of based on functionality. I can't assure that for the latter. But both would be a perfect copy."

"But we'll never achieve either can we? At least, not with the law." Garrus argued. "We'll never be able to completely incorporate every sentient activity as a principle of judgement. The law will never be complete with the former. But with the latter, all you need is a set of principles to move you forward."

"But you're contradicting yourself, Garrus." Chloe replied. "What happens when your simple set of principles collide with the present law. What if your Law is not as infallible as you assume it is? Do you take matters in to your own hand?"

"That," Garrus sat back, satisfied. "is why I limit my principles only to major infractions. If the law is too blind to discern principle with technicality, then the law is obviously flawed. But there are methods in which the law constantly modifies itself. It adapts, like your top-down method. But the Principle alone, which I base my beliefs upon, must be simple. You can't believe in the Law when it's constructed of a series of modifications. You Can believe in Justice that was built upon principles, and hope that the Law abides by that."

"And if the law doesn't abide by those principles?" Chloe pursued. "Do you take matters into your own hand?"

"No," Garrus shook his head. But she could see that he wasn't sure of that answer.

The food arrived and Chloe joyously began picking at the sushi. Garrus, however, seemed to be lost in thought.


	6. Code 417: Person with a Gun

**Code 417: Person with a Gun**

When Chloe returned to her apartment it was well past midnight, and the Citadel's traffic had dwindled down to a crawl. Garrus had promptly said good bye at the restaurant, which didn't actually surprise her, but did disappoint her, which surprised her.

"Garrus... " she muttered to herself. He was an annoying green C-Sec officer she had the misfortune to stumble onto in life. But somehow, she found herself unable to stop thinking about him. Everything about him actually infuriated her. His lack of gratitude, his overconfidence in his stuck up principles, his snobbish Turian values, yet when faced with the question of chaos in variety against order and stability, he seemed to prefer sacrificing order for every race to flourish. That latter part was what actually surprised her.

"I'm learning, Doctor Michel." He had strained to explain to her. "I haven't been away from Palaven for long. I'm just a Turian. I know my limitations."

It had appeared out of a heated dispute about the snobbery of Turians and the difficulties in maintaining a clinic for the minority.

"I don't agree with everything the Hierarchy proclaims." Garrus admitted. "I think there's more to the Galaxy than the rigid rule established by the Three Council Races. I guess that's the thing that's been bugging me. The laws of the Citadel, the more I understand them, become infuriatingly unjust."

He was green, she determined, but in a good way. She had to admit that she had never met a Turian she liked, but to be fair, she had met a lot of humans that she despised as well. Perhaps Garrus was different; with the right experience perhaps she could let him see how the minority could truly benefit the Citadel.

She stopped cold in her tracks.

Someone had emerged from the shadow of her door way. It was a Turian, definitely not Garrus, with a darker brownish exoskeleton. He was carrying a long rifle over his shoulders, but was holding a pistol pointed at her as he walked forward.

Chloe's knees began knocking unconsciously.

"Doctor Michel." the Turian purred slowly.

"Please," Chloe closed her eyes in terror. This was the second time in two months that she was facing down a barrel of a gun. Within an oddly calm corner of her terrified mind she wondered what she was doing wrong. But the rest of her simply locked up in place.

"My Master," the Turian continued, "would like to know Why you are pursuing dead body parts from the sewers."

Chloe's terror overtook her. A distant thought imagined that Garrus would suddenly appear out of no where and rescue her. A fleeting wish imagined that someone would turn the corner and run for help. But Chloe knew that in the reality of cold alien space, she was alone and facing down a gun.

There are no heroes, she told herself. And oddly enough, she was able to calm herself.

"The identity of the bodies," Chloe stammered, but slowly regained composure as she spoke, "is well known in C-Sec, and didn't require my expertise to decipher."

The Turian chuckled.

"You're brave, female." he pushed the pistol against her temple.

"I'm just a doctor." She explained calmly. "I identified the bodies for C-Sec, nothing more. There was nothing of interest."

"Oh," the Turian laughed. "I'm here to warn you, Doctor. Killing you would require less effort, believe me."

He smacked the back of her head rudely, as if admonishing a petulant child.

"What do you want?" she snapped, finding hidden courage.

"Let's say that when Garrus comes around," he chuckled again. "you'd better not offer too much of your wild speculations. Wild speculations are harmful. Some would say... deadly."

"I understand." she replied calmly as she could.

"Good, human." The Turian kicked her knees from under her, forcing her to kneel. He slowly walked behind her and pressed the muzzle of the gun behind her head.

Chloe closed her eyes and prayed for her god to accept her soul. She hadn't been going to church lately, hadn't prayed as often as she thought it would be necessary. She hadn't found a catholic priest on the Citadel, and had to prescribe to simply praying when she remembered she had to. Now she prayed desperately.

And as if granting her wish, the Turian was gone, disappearing into the shadows whence he came.

Chloe opened her eyes, felt dizziness assault her. Firmly taking control of her mind, she forced herself up, but found her legs had become too weak to move. So she sat there in the empty hallway, regaining her strength.

* * *

Chloe Michel was born in Geneva to a family of wealth. She could trace her ancestors to an ever succeeding line of Doctors as far back as the eighteenth century. Both her parents had been doctors, and had met in the Alliance military. Chloe had naturally gravitated towards the medical profession. Although she had flaunted an air of snobbery, quoting Freud, that she became a doctor to study man, she had always gravitated to providing care for the less fortunate than pure research. Later, when she had come to terms with her more altruistic nature, she had decided that the best way to serve was to go out into the frontier of man.

She had soldiered on rather well. Her brother, who had diverged from the family business, had been mildly surprised at her ability to maintain her clinic on the Citadel.

Chloe poured herself some more wine; the chills had still remained, despite draping herself heavily in blankets. Her hands still trembled.

Her mother had taught her, despite boasting of a happy marriage, never to rely on men to do things for her. She had been such an amazon, a true field surgeon who had experienced the Skyllian Blitz treated the wounded in makeshift emergency units, while her more timid and calm father had rotated from station to station, serving as a medical administrator to the fleet's needs.

But now, she felt she was out of her depth. The bar fight hadn't frightened her as much. Aron's thugs had mostly been a nuisance. Harkin was small fry. But the Turian had been different. He had looked at her with such calmness as a lion toying with an injured gazelle.

She wanted to talk to someone. Anyone. She picked up her communicator entering Garrus's contact address.

"Doctor Michel," Garrus replied immediately.

"Garrus," she replied, trying to be cheerful.

"Ah, yes." Garrus replied, as if he was remembering something. "Did you go in, safely?"

"Yes," she lied. "I found my way."

"Good." Garrus nodded gruffly. "It is good to know that you made it home... safely. I should have called you, but it was late."

"Thank you, Garrus." she smiled. "That was nice of you."

"I had a good time tonight, Doctor." Garrus continued. "I enjoyed your company."

"I enjoyed dinner, too." she sighed.

"I've ran through the list of suspects," Garrus changed the subject. "they were from missing persons reports going as far back as twenty years. Someone's been tampering with those bodies for a long time. The ages are also curious. Subject 12, the one with the missing eyeball, was forty when she went missing twenty years ago. But your analysis showed that her age still seemed to have been around forty."

Chloe was hesitant. She had just been accosted in front of her apartment, warned not to assist him. Her mind was confused, trying to sort out self preservation against wanting to help Garrus. Why did she want to help Garrus? He was obnoxious, rude and overbearing. But he had such an earnest yearning for the thing he called 'Justice'. She shook her head.

"That's odd, Garrus." she admitted.

"The most closest match is Subject 4, reported missing just one week ago."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Subject four was missing the most body parts."

"Indeed," Garrus nodded. "he also had the most conversion in his remaining tissue as well."

"Someone's been developing this technology for twenty years, but has only dumped the results in the incinerator only recently."

"But the markings on the floor." Garrus reminded her.

"I can't tell you anything about that, Garrus." She shook her head. "Was there any association between the victims?"

"I've run their files to see if anything has turned up matching their histories."

Chloe closed her eyes. She hated it, but she felt that she had now committed herself to helping him. Perhaps she should just tell him about her assault.

"I..." she began.

"Yes," Garrus replied. "You should run a medical check on the patients. See if they have anything in common, common diseases, common conditions, common phenotypes."

"Okay, Garrus." she sighed. Another fear had begun creeping inside her head. If her assailant could so easily find her, he could probably also find Garrus. Perhaps, alone at night in an empty apartment was not the best time and place to talk to him about hidden ears that were able to find out what they were investigating.

"Thank you, Doctor Michel." Garrus replied, remembering that he was supposed to show gratitude more often.

"You're welcome, Garrus."

* * *

"Doctor Michel?"

Chloe hadn't slept a wink last night, and the wine was causing a severe headache when the voice came from the door.

"Please, I'm not ready yet." Chloe mumbled. "Come back later... if it's not an emergency."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor. But it is of the utmost urgency."

Chloe looked up to see a sharp handsome man in an Alliance naval uniform enter her office. He seemed to be in his late thirties, with a clean shaven face, and a sharp delicate nose. Handsome was an understatement. Chloe noticed that she was staring at him. She then noticed that her hair was in a mess.

She picked her jaw up from the floor and smoothed her hair before turning to her visitor casually.

"How may I help you, officer?"

"Armistan Banes, Alliance Intelligence." The man smiled as he offered a handshake. "I think I can help you."


	7. Traumatic eye injury

**Traumatic eye injury**

"We've been after these events for some time," Armistan Banes explained, in a delicate southern accent.

Chloe set down the coffee before her guest. He was of an indescribable middle age, where humans who kept themselves in good shape fell into, definitely not in his twenties, but didn't seem old aged either. His tan was immaculate fitting his strong jaws and peircing eagle eyes. He gave the look of a refined cultured gentleman, wealthy, polished, intelligent and strong. Chloe had managed to check the mirror and apply careful amounts of makeup, not enough to satisfy her, but just enough to go under the radar as if she hadn't primmed herself. Chloe couldn't tell if the man had noticed her change, or whether he had good naturedly let it pass. She was certain that had it been Garrus, he would have commented on her. Then again, to be fair, had it been Garrus, she wouldn't have put on the lipstick.

"Oh?" Chloe wasn't the least bit interested in the context of the conversation. His voice was so perfectly baritone.

"There might have been more abductions that you and C-Sec have uncovered." he sipped his coffee. "May I compliment you on your coffee, Chloe. Ethiopean?"

"Why, yes." she blushed. It was actually Java, but she didn't want to contradict him. Perhaps there was something wrong with her brewing.

"As I was saying," he pulled out a datapad, flicking through photos of various persons. "We've estimated about forty missing persons on the Citadel during the past twenty to thirty years. Yes, I know the numbers are fuzzy, but the perpetrator has been covering his tracks pretty well. All human, mostly from the lower wards and Zakera, where it's easier to pick them off."

"So, the Alliance military was already onto its trail?" Chloe feigned interest, trying to look as professional as she could.

"We've been collating data on mysterious disappearances of humans on the Citadel." He furrowed his brows, concerned; he looked delicious. "Some could be attributed to simple accidents, usual criminal activities, but these persons have been turning up in dismembered parts. Not all the parts have been accounted for, mind you, but yours has been the largest dump of body parts we've seen."

"Did those body parts also have cybernetic conversions?" Chloe asked.

"Our scientists have uncovered metallic implants in the limbs, but haven't been able to deduce its nature." Banes shook his head.

"I think I can help you there." Chloe offered, eager to please.

Armistan Banes sat back with the most interested smile, eyes sparkling that almost made Chloe stutter as she effused her findings to him. When she was finished Banes whistled as if he were impressed.

"My my, Doctor Michel, you have just made my day."

"Anything to help the Alliance." Chloe gushed.

"Perhaps I can bring something more to show you." Banes began jotting notes in his omni-tool, scheduling, categorizing.

"Of course," Chloe smiled. "I'd be happy to help."

"Oh," Banes exclaimed, remembering something, "I've almost forgot. With all the great help you've given me, I had forgotten why I'd came."

Banes projected an image on her screen through his omni-tool. As Chloe glanced at the image, a chill ran down her spine as she stumbled backwards. It was the image of the Turian from last night.

"Commander Tyrus Jacobus, fifth legion, retired." Banes glanced sideways at Chloe. "I see you recognize him."

"Yes..." Chloe felt faint again.

"He's currently freelance." Banes transferred his files to Chloe's omni-tool. "But he's been on and off the Citadel for a while now. We believe he's found an employer. A very dangerous employer."

"He said something about his 'Master'."

Banes nodded, projecting another image of a Turian. He looked far older than Jacobus, grayish with cracks in his exoskeleton.

"Saren Arterius." Banes explained in a reserved manner. "Council Spectre. One of the greatest of that elite cadre of operatives. I've been shadowing his footsteps for some time. His interest has always been in rare and ancient artifacts. We had believed that it was associated with his preoccupation with his brother's death, some years ago."

"He seemed very interested in what we've uncovered."

"No doubt." Banes nodded. "Saren is something of a turian-supremist. He sees other races as inferior, yet ironically seeks to improve the Turian race. He's been rumored to dabble in ancient artifact and AI research. Something I can't still seem to fit together. But your research may have helped us quite a bit. In any case, Jacobus being on your trail only spells trouble."

"I have friends in C-Sec-"

"C-Sec is a Turian agency." Banes replied bluntly. "Turians are not to be trusted. Believe me, Doctor, there is no Turian that would ever put your safety before the interests of their hierarchy."

"Of course," Chloe nodded, feeling slightly dismayed at his sudden aversion to Turians.

* * *

Mom hasn't been able to speak recently. Three years since she had been diagnosed with Corpalis Syndrome she has been wasting away in a hospital bed on Palaven. Amazing how in this day and age only the most debilitating diseases were left to overrun the lives of the descendants who have borne through all the horrors of their ancestors. Yet Doctors say that new cures seem to be bringing forth new diseases. Mystics would call it the Force of Nature, and other rubbish. To Garrus, it was just haphazard and strewn together remedies that begat other diseases in the process. Nature may have been beyond his ken, but remedies were created by persons, and like all activities of persons, they were with inborn errors and shortcomings.

He hated watching sick people, and he hated visiting clinics. And despite all her help, Chloe Michel smelled of sterile antiseptic that reminded him too much of his dying mother.

When he had left home, Father had been encouraging, telling him it was the duty of all good Turians to serve the people. His eyes spoke differently, but those eyes had been hardened by years of seeing the dregs of the underbelly of the Citadel. Lest he misinterpreted his Father, his sister Solana had offered a more direct form of communication by her reserved but grudging look. She had wanted to join foreign affairs, travel for a living as well. But the son took precedence, especially when he followed his father's footsteps, and Solana had volunteered to take care of their mother, eventually taking up a nursing position at the hospital in hopes of reducing their punitive medical fees.

Despite her begrudging anchor that tied her to Palaven, Solana had sent him a gift, scrapped together from her meager income. A Kuwashii visor, standard model, in his favorite color. It had the standard simple functions of 10x magnification and ballistic compensation mechanisms, linked to his omnitool body armor computer. He fondled the mediocre model in his hands. Despite their consideration, no one used such an outdated model any more. The standard C-Sec gear even provided him with a much better 20x magnification with biotic field sensors as well.

He clipped it on.

The reaction was immediate.

"Non standard visor, I see." Chellick had been promoted to Lance Corporal in the short time he had been tagging along Pallin. It had been so like Chellick. When he had lived under the roof of the Vakarians, he had desperately tried to endear himself to the elder Vakarian and Solana. Now he was quickly latching on to Pallin. Garrus and Chellick had gone back a long way, both their fathers serving in C-Sec together. But they were never friends. Neither were they hostile, as if they had extended their initial awkwardness period into twenty odd years of time.

"Gift from home." Garrus explained. He knew where Chellick was coming from. Chellick was parroting concerns that the elder Vakarian would often voice, as if he were desperately trying to play proxy to the authority figure in Garrus's life. It was his way of consciously and unconsciously trying to tell the world that despite his orphaned state, he was more reliable than his counterpart Garrus.

"You have to keep your equipment up to date, Garrus."

"I'll work on it." Garrus wondered why this conversation was dragging on. Usually Chellick and he only exchanged a few cordial words, never amounting to much dialogue.

"I'm concerned about you, Garrus." Chellick continued. "You keep hanging around with the human and the volus. I know that it's an assignment, but even Pallin expressed how he wanted you to rise above the occasion."

"I want to focus on the case, Chellick."

"You're not a detective, yet, Garrus. You have to wait it out until you're given a case of your own."

"That's the conventional way." Garrus replied, brusquely.

Chellick backed off. Their mutual association that never blossomed to friendship had always centered around the issue of a crucial linchpin in any relationship, commitment. Neither of them interfered with each other's lives to stepping beyond being obligated to each other than they had to.

Chellick, feeling he had performed his duties for the Vakarian family, eased off, leaving Garrus alone in the locker room.

* * *

"Alliance intelligence?"

Garrus looked down at the new data that Chloe was showing him. Missing body parts, hacked off limbs, all human. The collated data was messier than their own findings. Initial reports had entirely missed mentioning any implants, to say nothing of cybernetic growth. Either the experiments in that period were in their earlier phase, or they were from an entirely different case; it was difficult to determine.

The next patch of body parts did report some odd mixing of technology, rudimentary cybernetic enhancements. But the cybernetic enhancements were from standard technology.

Only three specimen matched their profile, with minuscule cybernetic growth cataloged primarily limited to a few organs.

"We don't know if they're all even from the same perp." Bailey observed.

"I thought so, too, at first." Chloe agreed, then blasted up the screen with pictures of the edges of each limb. "But these incisions are precise, matching each victim at the same skeletal reference point. Only three specimens which were hacked off crudely; I think we can discard of those. The rest have received the same meticulous care."

"All found on the Citadel," Garrus voiced, "none who served in the military, none with significant diseases, all from the lower rungs of society."

"If it weren't for those weird gadgets growing in them," Bailey nodded. "I'd say we're just looking at a crazy serial killer targeting the homeless."

"Garrus was right to point out the lack of military service." Chloe observed. "It also means that none of these victims were actively modified genetically. They are, in scientific parlance, wild type."

"We've established that these victims were a result of experimentation." Tolin shrugged. "That's nothing new."

"Few experiments target wild type." Chloe explained. "Usually research is directed at diseases, pathology. But you study wild type when you want something to affect everyone. Like a template."

"Are you saying, doctor," Bailey scrunched his face, "that someone is experimenting on cybernetic transformations to turn everyone unwittingly into ... robots?"

"That's my theory." Chloe confirmed. "I have to warn you that this is just my speculation. Normally, if I were to confirm this scientifically, I'd have to be more rigorous. But as this is a police matter, I am interpreting this rather loosely."

"That's fine, Doctor Michel. We greatly appreciate it." Garrus thanked her, abruptly, and very much uncharacteristically.

Chloe was caught off guard at his amateur effort to be more sociable. She suddenly noticed that Garrus had been more polite this morning, more reserved and mature than his usual brash confident and impatient self. The demeanor seemed to have passed over everyone else's head, though.

"Saren Arterius." Bailey mumbled. "We keep on running into that bastard."

"Think we should show the doctor some other stuff we dug up on Saren?" Tolin suggested.

"I think the Doctor has done enough for us, sir." Garrus interrupted, rising to his feet.

Chloe rolled her eyes. There he was again. Assuming everything, just plowing on without her. He'll never change.

"I'll look up any evidence you can bring me, Bailey." Chloe scowled at Garrus.

Bailey and Tolin, suddenly aware of the tension bristling again between Garrus and the doctor, shifted uneasily.

"You sure, doctor?" Tolin asked.

"I'm definitely willing to help, gentlemen."

Garrus remained silent.

"Okay," Bailey shrugged. "we'll send them up and discuss them later."

* * *

Chloe decided to close up the clinic near dinner time, setting the VI to alert her in cases of emergency. The last patient had been a volus banker. With not enough clinics for non-Council races, Volus and Elcor had started visiting her clinic as well, adding to the human and Quarian patients she usually saw. She had began receiving complaints from the human patients, including a dismissive note from the Embassy through Consular Udina who warned that the Embassy's funds will only be maintained if she provided human centered care. She had responded to the Embassy asking if it was the Embassy's agenda to alienate humanity from the other races.

The volus hopped down from the examination table as Chloe reset his suit pressurizer to a slightly higher atmospheric level to accommodate for his heightened blood pressure.

"Again," she reminded him "You're not getting enough exercise, Mister Von."

"I appreciate your concern, Earth-clan." the Banker replied. "But I'm not sure exercise is the remedy in my case."

Chloe picked up her coat and led him to the door, ready to lock up.

"A clinic this size with the clientele you have," the banker looked around before exiting her clinic with her, "you will be hard pressed to maintain it on your own. Not without Council funding."

"I try to manage." Chloe smiled at his concern.

"If you are in need of funding, the Volus banks will be more than happy to extend a loan." Barla Von offered her his contact information. Chloe registered it on her omni-tool.

"I appreciate it, Mister Von."

She waved the banker off, as he entered into his private Sky-car that was guarded by a couple of Krogans in uniform. She then noticed the solitary figure standing in the far corner, a silhouette of a Turian. She hurriedly turned to walk in the opposite direction, despite having to circumvent her normal route picking up groceries in the Market. Glancing over her shoulder, the shadow had disappeared.

She had gone against every thing that the Turian and Alliance Intelligence had warned her. She had blurted out every last detail of her findings to the C-Sec officers, even handing over Alliance Intel to C-Sec. When she had done so, she had been charged with an inner fire that had reminded her why she tried to treat every race that knocked on her clinic. But now, with a shadow on her trail, she was quickly regretting her decision.

Failing to hail a sky-car, she entered the elevator, impatiently waiting for the doors to close. The shadow that was trailing her reappeared again around the corner, steadily following her as the door closed shut.

Chloe felt her heart race, her pulse pounding in her ears. She fumbled her pockets for the small anesthetic spray she had decided to carry around. The rapid acting agent could render the patient to unconsciousness in ten seconds. She hoped it was fast enough in emergency situations.

The door opened to the lower wards as Chloe cautiously stepped out of the elevator. Her shoes were making large clacking noises that echoed the empty littered hallways. A lone keeper was fixing a damaged light that kept flickering on and off. She had been through this passage before, when she first set up the clinic. It was the shortest route home, but the most emptiest as well. When a vagrant human had accosted her, she had abandoned this route completely. It was darker than she imagined, and large crates for merchants to careless to stock their items in paid storage areas littered the hall casting shadows. She then noticed that the flickering light the keeper was working on was one of the few that were still functional. More lights were out of order down the hallway.

A sudden whirl of machinery startled her, but it was only the ventilation system turning on.

She made half steps forward, trying to muffle her foot steps. The hallway seemed empty. She passed the keeper, busily at work. There was an exit further down that led to another extended corridor, and finally to the streets that housed her apartments. She wondered if reaching the end of the hallway could barely be called safety, recalling how the Turian assassin had cornered her at her door. He had told her that killing her would be far easier. Would she know when he struck?

She had arrived at the door way, entering the last stretch of emptiness before the apartment streets. This was the outer corridor that opened up with a line of windows showing the Citadel night line. Some how the open space relaxed her.

The door she had exited just opened again. And faster than she could turn around, she felt the blade of an omni-knife flicker into view, descending against her neck.

"I thought we warned you," came the purring voice of a Turian.

"No, please, please," Chloe hastily fumbled her pockets for the spray, but somehow alerted to her movement, the Turian gripped her arm tightly, squeezing down with enormous force that she felt her hand immediately going numb.

"Time to die, human." The Turian purred, sniffing at her. "I love the putrid odor you humans give off when you're afr-"

He never finished the sentence. His grip loosened. And with a thud, the Turian fell backwards.

Chloe let out a scream as she fell to her knees. She cautiously looked behind her, but the Turian lay supine, unmoving, a pool of blood was gathering around his head. She crawled over to her would be assassin. A bullet had pierced through his eyes, not even grazing the exoskeleton face plate.

From the other end of the hall way, a figure had emerged, walking slowly in measured steps, a long rifle slung over his shoulders, and his right eye gleaming with a bluish flicker.

Chloe strained her eyes through her tears that had started gushing forward from the near-death experience.

The figure took its time approaching, taking a moment to scan the perimeter, then finally folding his rifle into his armor socket.

"Garrus?" Chloe stammered.

The Turian peered over at the body, as if he were back at the lab with her inspecting the severed limbs. He reached down and fingered the empty eye socket, noticing that the bullet had slightly grazed the inner exoskeleton on its trajectory through the brain.

"Huh," Garrus sounded disappointed.

"Garrus!" Chloe, still week in her legs, hugged the Turian around the waist.

"Doctor Michel, are you all right?"


	8. Code 484: Theft

**Code 484: Theft**

"You took the long route," Garrus explained simply, when they were back at her apartment. "I took the short one."

Chloe foraged her food compartment for anything edible to Turians, only finding water.

"How did you know I was being followed?" Chloe set down the glass of water for Garrus, who was replaying his head shot over and over again, touching the dials.

"How could I not?" Garrus shrugged. "You told me that Alliance Intel contacted you. Alliance Intel isn't very good. If they knew that you were scurrying about digging up bodies, then I can safely assume that everyone from the Spectres and STG down to Volus Insurance Securities knows about you."

He sipped his water, continued fidgeting with his visor.

"What are you doing?" she had to ask. He had just rescued her from a life threatening situation, and he seemed disappointed.

"Calibrating." he replied, as if it explained everything.

"I was approached, last night-" she began explaining.

"Saren Arterius." Garrus replied, still preoccupied with his visor. "He has been secretly funding several criminal organizations. Bailey and Tolin has been on his trail for a couple of years, now. Something of their hobby to pass the time while everyone else got promoted. It's my thing, now. Jacobus-"

"It was Jacobus last night." She blurted at the familiar name.

Garrus looked up at her, annoyed.

"You should have told us."

"I didn't want to put you in danger." She mumbled, understanding how ludicrous it sounded now. "Besides, I survived."

"I was drunk last time you saved me." Garrus replied, again returning to his unfazed self. "I'm not as inept as you think."

"I didn't say that!" Chloe argued.

"Besides, that was Urdnot Wrex you threw me into, in Chora's Den." Garrus explained. "One of the deadliest Krogan mercenaries known. Thankfully, Urdnot Wrex has been known for having a temper, but never for killing without a contract."

"Oh." Chloe knew she had gotten away from a fight between an angry Krogan and a bunch of Asari too easily.

Garrus clipped his visor back on, still sporting a look of dissatisfaction.

"You should start packing." He stated.

"Huh?" Chloe looked at him in bewilderment. "What?"

Garrus sighed, as if explaining to a child, he began speaking slowly.

"Saren Arterius, deadly Spectre, has targeted you for elimination. We can't act against him without significant proof of his misdeeds to the Council, which would probably mean that we'll be dragging your dead body to the Council chambers even to present a case. If you don't want to get killed, you can't risk staying here any longer. You will have to sleep in your clinic, since we still have to examine the data we have piled up there. Hence, you will need to pack your things."

"But Alliance Intelligence-"

"Alliance Intelligence hardly has any power on the Citadel, Doctor Michel." Garrus stated. "I've been trailing you all evening, and I haven't even noticed a single human covering your back. Either they're too good to even avoid my notice, or they're simply not interested in keeping you alive."

"And you're that good?" Chloe asked wryly.

Garrus seemed perplexed, as if she had asked him if he could read and write. "Of course."

* * *

"Sorry about the inconvenience, Doctor." Bailey pulled the Futon to the corner of the Clinic.

Garrus was busy unloading the boxes. Tolin watched.

The clinic had been closed for the day, claiming renovations, which wasn't exactly far from the truth. Bailey and Garrus had managed to set up a wall between the clinic and a small space they furnished as her living quarters.

"No, I greatly appreciate what you're doing for me, Bailey." Chloe was preparing lunch for them. She had been careful to get appropriate food for each species, though she had to limit her selection to pre-cooked meals.

"Hell, considering what we've wrung you through, I wish we could have done more." Bailey admitted, which was the sentiment she had been hoping Garrus would express.

But Garrus had been his usual self, oblivious as ever. Chloe had come to understand a bit about Turian psychology through Garrus. Everything was in hierarchy. Even the small sentiments. With a threat imposing before them, smaller tidbits were immediately cleared from the dialogue. While any species would consider it odd to talk about the weather in the middle of a fire fight, Turians usually took that to the extreme.

"Suspected you'd be tracked, but we didn't want to worry you." Bailey explained. "We've been taking turns shadowing you for a couple of days. Garrus's idea. He thought he could egg out the assassins more easily."

"He used me as bait?" Chloe glared at Bailey at the new information.

"You were never in harm's way." Bailey explained.

"I was threatened at gunpoint two nights in a row."

"Tolin was marking Jacobus the entire time. Garrus shot Jacobus's lackey." Bailey explained. "I'm sorry about all this, but humans are in danger every day on the Citadel. We have forty dismembered bodies over twenty years. That's a monumental streak of serial murders in any standards, and it's failed to barely even raise an eyebrow."

"Can't we just go the the Alliance?"

"You can try." Bailey shrugged. "The Embassy is a bipolar mess. Anita Goyle almost seems to be apologizing for humanity's very existence, while her predecessor has been so vehement about the First Contact wars that he was banned from speaking directly to the Council." He added dryly. "It's done wonders for how the other races look at us."

"What about this Consular Udina?" Chloe asked. "He seems to be proactive in humanity's interests."

Bailey drummed his head, recalling Udina, ending up with a scowl. "I don't know what his game is. Not a very reliable fellow. Sources in the Embassy tells me that he's a whole bipolar mess all to himself. One day he'll be groveling before the Council, and another he'd be crying bloody murder over a minor infarction of unfairness to humans. I try to avoid him as much as I can."

"We need help, Bailey." Chloe sighed. "Grateful as I am for you looking out for me, we can't just make it on our own."

"Look, doctor, Chloe." Bailey called her first name for the first time. He looked tired, worn and depressed. "Do you know who the senior human C-Sec officer is? Me. Do you know who's the most prestigious human medical practitioner on the Citadel is? You. We are all there is for now. I've tried to get help on human cases since I've first got here. I wanted to help humanity fit in to the Galactic community."

His words echoed her own. Just like her, he was a working man, trying to do what was in his power to help humanity across the stars.

"I know it's ridiculously outmatched against us." Bailey smiled grimly. "We don't have the big guns supporting us. But we'll have to make do with what we can. But we're not without help."

Bailey pointed at Tolin and Garrus dramatically.

The two were unpacking the boxes, curiously picking at the contents, which to her horror were her underwear.

"Hey! Put those back."

Garrus looked entirely mystified, while Tolin turned away feigning innocence.

"You were saying?" Chloe sighed, turning back to Bailey.

"I hate to break it to you, Doctor, but they're the best help I've been able to get in all my time in C-Sec. The fact that they're even working on a human case for so long is a wonder in itself. Especially Garrus. You know he's the son of the former top-dog in C-Sec?"

"No," Chloe admitted. She knew very little of Garrus. Conversations about Justice and Law aside, he had never spoken of his personal life, his family. She had mitigated him to a corner where she had categorized him as a selfish and obnoxious Turian, assuming that he was so preoccupied with himself to care about anyone else. "What's he doing here?"

"He's declined other cases, more high profile cases, the type of cases that would help his career." Bailey explained. "He's a rare breed of Turian. An Idealist. You don't get a lot of them, you know."

* * *

When everything was set, Chloe handed out the plates of food, Garrus locked the door, and Tolin projected Bailey's pet project on the large screen, 'the Saren Files'.

"Saren Arterius," Bailey proclaimed. "Brother of General Desolas Arterius, humanity's enemy at Shanxi. Saren was invited to the Spectres some time around 2150 and 2160. Records of Spectre induction aren't exactly public knowledge."

Bailey had a gleeful glint in his eyes. Chloe could only imagine how long he had been collecting data on the Turian, and how much bottled up rage was being diverted today.

"We don't have any factual data concerning his whereabouts and activities until he posited himself for a relatively stable period of time these last four years. That's when he began employing Jacobus and his gang, along with several other notable Turian hit squads. The squads were mostly about a dozen in number. The usual mix of versatility, based on a standard military unit. We estimate about three or four of these groups were active, though we can't exactly attribute all of their projects to link to Saren."

"Last year," Tolin picked off. "One of these thugs, Gerelus's gang, cornered a Embassy Consular Ethan Pelvin on his way home, riddled him with bullets. There have been a couple of passing shootouts in Zakera Wards area, but nothing to implicate any of the gangs. That one was lucky, we were able to get Gerelus's face off a camera. But the evidence was lost and Gerelus had to be set free."

"A total of fifteen passerby shootings have occurred in the last twenty years, unaccounted for, only targeting a single victim with no collateral." it was Garrus's turn. "There were no passerby shootings of a similar nature all year since Gerelus until last month."

"Consular Udina's place." Bailey sprung the next image. "Garrus's first job on the team. Udina was entertaining Joram Talid, Nassana Dantius, Consular Quentius, Din Korlack and other semi-heavyweights around the political playground. Again, a passing sky-car fired sixty one bullets through the window, but only pasted one human."

"Grace." Tolin interrupted with sadness in his voice.

Bailey rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. The woman worked at the Asari broth- Consort's office, and was a good friend of Jan, here." Bailey continued.

"It was also the first time Saren himself intervened to stop investigations." said Garrus, with a gleam in his eyes. "So at least we could tie in most of the incidents together with Saren. The thing is, with his intervention, Grace's body was collected from the morgue. Naturally, following termination of the investigation, the body is usually returned, cryofrozen and ready for burial. This time, the family just received her ashes."

"And all the victims were humans?" Chloe asked, receiving a unanimous nod. "But what do these ... assasinations? What do they have to do with our implants?"

Bailey cracked into a grin. Tolin nudged Garrus.

"Well, for an old dog like Tolin and me, if the man says shut up about it, we usually just abide." Bailey smiled. "Our friend here doesn't have the wisdom of age. C'mon Garrus."

Garrus seemed embarrassed as he keyed the screen to his omni-tool, presenting a full image of a peices of flesh that were lain out in the form of a human silhouette.

"That's Grace." he offered Chloe.

"Was Grace." Chloe corrected, still scrutinizing the image.

"It's hard to tell in her current form," Garrus explained. "But she's not all there. Crime Scene has been able to scrap together every piece of flesh together. Every ounce of flesh has been accounted for. Every body part pieced together one by one."

Garrus's rough image began sorting itself like a three dimensional jigsaw puzzle until the fragments of flesh formed an entire human body, except...

"Except for a finger." Garrus finally smiled.

* * *

Chloe stared at the reconstructed image. She didn't doubt the current VI technology's ability to reconstruct the evidence. She had grown accustomed to the logic of police thinking, it wasn't rigidly scientific and often performed leaps of logic based on general experience, but it still sounded plausible. But, now there was still something missing from the picture.

"Why?" she voiced her concern. "Why would this Grace person do this? Besides, the other bodies on the site were heavily dismembered. She was still walking around."

"She doesn't fit the profile of missing persons either." Garrus nodded. "She's a well established person, even in Council race standards. Sha'ira only accepts respectable ladies into her institute. Then again, all the other fly-by murders also didn't fit the profile."

"What Garrus is trying to say," Bailey explained. "is that we think there are two sets of things going on here. Fly-by murders, which we have sort of linked to Saren. And the missing persons and hacked off limbs, where we found the finger. Grace is the missing link that connects those two cases."

Chloe ran the evidence through her mind again, speaking aloud, so they could confirm if she was on the right track. "Forty odd ... no Thirty odd missing persons and hacked limbs, right? The recent incinerator evidence has twelve bodies and thirteen markings, along with a cybernetic finger. The finger belongs to none of the hacked bodies. Fifteen fly-by murders, the latest covered up by Saren, of a girl who was missing a finger."

"Seems right." Tolin concurred.

"And no one noticed that Grace had been missing a finger?" Chloe frowned.

"One week is the most recent point of the last missing body and C-Sec finding them." Garrus filled the holes. "Grace's closest associates haven't seen her since the time the last body went missing and Grace ended up dead at Udina's."

"So in only a matter of days Grace develops a cybernetic limb?" Chloe frowned.

"Either that," Tolin replied, "or she's been hiding her pinky finger."

"Still," Chloe kept with troubleshooting. "that means she voluntarily committed to the conversion process. Something that the hacked limbs and the premise of being experimented on doesn't fit well with."

"You have to admit, Doctor." Garrus argued. "that no other cybernetic transformation in the experimented body parts were as complete as that odd finger. Just patches of tissue and clumps of cells at best. The finger stands out."

"So," Chloe starred at the image of the woman, "what do we do now?"

Bailey turned on the lights again, putting down his finished meal.

"Grace went from being in the keeper tunnels to getting shot at in Udina's home, leaving the finger in the keeper tunnels." Bailey wiped his mouth. "Number one, Grace is not a scientist, she doesn't do experiments, much less develop cybernetic conversions. Number two, Grace is a human, killed by Turians, as were the other victims of the fly-by shootouts. So was Grace working for the Turians and got dumped, or were they at odds? We're missing a big piece of the puzzle here, Doctor. What I'm suspecting is that Saren is definitely involved, but may not actually be the one who was performing the experiments."

"We're missing a third party." Tolin nodded. "Someone who Grace was cooperative with, but against the Turians."


	9. Implants and Transplantations

**Implants and Transplantations**

Armando Bailey hated going to the Embassies. The human embassy was a joke of the entire diplomatic community of the Citadel. Already known for being impatient, the diplomatic agendas that switched with every incumbent of the ambassadorial office let humanity earn its reputation for being fickle and unreliable.

Doctor Michel and Bailey waited outside Consular Udina's office for an interview. The mysterious third party of the crimes needed fishing out, and the most probable suspect to approach without attracting much attention was Udina, for the moment. Nothing much was known about the man. He never allied himself with either the Solidarity movement nor the Integration movement. He had no religion, and had even disowned his nationality when he became appointed to the Consular's office of the Citadel. One day he would open a garden party for Terra Firma, and the next day he would celebrate Asari religion.

About fifteen minutes past their appointment, they were led into his cramped office. It gave the impression of being spacious and wealthy, yet betrayed its small size in lieu of Earth's diplomatic importance. The man was in his late forties to early fifties, with patchy gray hair over a dark leathery skin.

"Detective Bailey," Udina stepped forward to greet them, less than half way from his desk. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Udina spared a sidelong glance at Chloe, obviously well aware of who she was, and safely ignoring her.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" Udina pointedly addressed Bailey alone. He was establishing ground rules. Bailey was someone who's association he had sought. Michel was someone who asked him for money.

"Just a friendly visit, Consular." Bailey replied, as rehearsed.

Udina's face froze with a smile. "Indeed? Rather unusual, won't you say?"

"A friend of a patient of mine was involved in the assault on your house, Consular." Chloe began. "they were wondering if you could shed some light on the incident."

"I see," Udina openly frowned at Chloe, but then glanced keenly at Bailey. "And what would you expect of me? The Council has decreed it beyond investigation of C-Sec jurisdiction."

"Humanity is simply interested in the return of its daughter, Consular." Chloe urged.

"I have no idea on the proceedings of the Spectres, Doctor Michel." Udina replied bluntly.

"Doctor," Bailey snapped. "Control yourself. You do not want to place the Consular in a difficult position."

"How can you say that, Lieutenant Bailey!" Chloe snapped. "You of all people-"

"Enough!" Udina slammed his fist down on the table, as the two stared at him. "Amateurs."

Donnel Udina sneered as he rose from his seat.

"I am not who you are looking for." Udina walked over to a clean panel on the wall that betrayed the cracks of a door only as he passed his hand over it. A hand print and a retinal scan later, he retrieved a small data disc which he immediately tossed to Bailey. "Did you honestly expect to tire me with your performances? Gratefully, you are harmless, and may do me some good, in the end."

Bailey caught the disc, turning it over cautiously.

Udina simply pointed to the door. Getting the gist of it, Bailey and Chloe got up to leave.

"Needless to say," Udina drawled "I will deny everything."

"I got the message." Bailey grunted before leaving.

* * *

The machine man bawled an inhuman screech, banging against the containment field.

The eyes of the machine man were two spots of blue lights. The lights even emanated through the mouth. It was as if the light was its life energy, exuding through every crack and orifice of the body. Unlike what she imagined, the machine man was far from what Chloe Michel imagined.

In the vid recording, a human and a Salarian were observing the Machine man from a safe distance. They were surrounded by usual lab equipment and terminals, as well as several large spikes that protruded from the ground. They seemed to be conversing, but no sound from their conversation could be deciphered by the embedded audio. The vid ran a mere thirty seconds before it abruptly terminated.

"Perps." Garrus said simply, as if to prove a point.

"The vid isn't dated." Tolin observed.

"That's it?" Bailey exclaimed, exasperated. The thirty seconds of a howling machine man had abruptly ended.

"Well," Chloe sighed. "Let's see what we can work on. Jan, can you bump up the image on the machine man?"

The image enhanced immediately, as Chloe quickly began commenting on the similarities with normal anatomy.

"Even the branching of the sternocleidomastoid muscle," indicating the neck, "which in in an engineering sense would have been rudimentarily replaced with a single hydraulic. This is in vein with the implants we have found."

"Is this what the full scale conversion would have ended with?" Garrus asked, seemingly awed, as he stared blankly at the images.

"I can't say for certain." Chloe stared at the image. Something about the machine man was troubling.

"It doesn't look like a complete conversion, though." Tolin sniffed. "It's... ugly."

"Let's look at the other two outside the cage." Garrus offered. Tolin's nubby fingers slid across the controls deftly extrapolating the probably mug shot of the two individuals.

"Can you ID them?" Bailey peered quizzically at the image.

"The Salarian turns up on the data base." Tolin jumped excitedly. "A Doctor Saleon, working for Sirta. Sirta's a human industry provides medigel and genetic alterations for all sorts of clientele, including the military.'

"We know Sirta." Chloe sighed, looking sideways at Garrus, but he seemed to have been lost in thought.

"Well, apparently he's resigned his work at Sirta," Tollin skimmed over the data, summarizing, "Left about five years ago. He specialized in cloning and DNA work."

"What's a geneticist doing with the Machine man?" Bailey asked, looking over at Chloe to incite a comment.

"What about the other one?" Chloe nudged Tollin.

"No ID." Tollin shrugged. "Looks like he's the one introducing our Machine man to the Salarian, though."

The human was smoothly handsome, without any characteristic features. Except for the eyes that seemed to glow.

"Can you do anything about the retinal reflection?" Chloe pointed at the glowing eyes.

"Vid quality isn't good." Tollin shook his head.

"The Machine man is being reverse engineered." Garrus interrupted, suddenly.

"Say again, Garrus?" Bailey squinted.

"It all makes sense!" Garrus stepped forward. "The image was glossed around ten to five years ago, considering Doctor Saleon is in the picture. But the missing persons and shoot outs began far earlier, right after Shanxi. It's far too early to have a fully working cybernetic man in that time frame, considering the procession of the changes we've seen in the bodies."

Garrus then pointed out the spikes.

"These spikes are different, too." He bloated the image up to show their supports. "Some of them are tripods. Some of them are quadripods. The Tripods are more smoother, while the Quadripods are a jumbled mess of wiring and tubing."

"The machine man looks far more advanced than what we've come to expect of the cybernetic conversions." Chloe agreed.

"Quadripods!" Garrus nearly shouted, as if an epiphany struck him. "The markings on the ground in the keeper tunnels. They were four equi-distance shapes forming a square. They must have been from these experiments."

"So," Bailey sorted it out, "Right after Shanxi, some one to three years later, these people, or at least the person in the picture, starts trying to duplicate the Machine man. Later with the help of this Doctor Saleon he makes some breakthroughs, ending up with the severed limbs and scorch marks in the keeper tunnels."

"Okay," Tolin agreed so far.

"So, where does Saren and the fly-by shootings come in?"Bailey asked.

"At least we have an ID on one of the perps." Tolin suggested. "Look for Doctor Saleon."

Bailey looked around at the others, weighing them in his mind. "Garrus, look for Doctor Saleon. Tolin and I will split up, trying to find something about the fly-by shootings. We're at our wits end, people. Let's go and shake up the town a bit."

"Any ideas where to start?" Tolin asked.

"Not really," Bailey shrugged. "There's a man, however, who probably knows Saren best."

* * *

"You're Lorik Qu'in from Binary Helix?" The administrator squinted at him.

With advice from Chloe, Garrus proceeded to the Sirta Hospital, the Alliance funded Salarian research hospital where Saleon had previously worked out of. Saleon had been a transplant surgeon at the hospital until ten years ago when he reported other important business had turned up. However, he was still reported to turn up infrequently, consulting, offering advice and helping with projects. He had boasted of considerable quality work while at the clinic.

"See for yourself," the Salarian Doctor Miras showed him a jumbled mess of charts and graphs, as if it were as easily decipherable as a pictogram.

"I'll have to take your word for it, Doctor." Garrus frowned.

"Look!" Miras pointed irritated. "One thousand successful transplants, all showing better function than a normal patient's organs."

"Is that impressive?" Garrus asked.

"A transplant is lucky to even perform eighty percent of the original function. We haven't been able to replicate his success, since he's left."

"Any idea where he went?"

"He said something about a research opportunity. The man's a genius. Not exactly Mordin Solus level genius, but a genius none-the-less."

"Who?" Garrus was becoming irritated at the Salarian. He never liked Salarians. They were bargainers who'd easily trade life and cure for money. It had been like that with his mother.

"Never mind, Mister Qu'in." Miras waved him away, disdainfully. "People like him follow the challenge. He came by the other day, demonstrating how his new technology could actually enhance simple organic functions. It was mesmerizing."

"Technology?" Garrus felt curious.

"It's complicated." Miras snubbed him aside. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Garrus glowered.

"To put it simply," Miras smiled, "he demonstrated how artificial nano modulators could enhance cell uptake of biohybrid alloy building blocks through eezo directed micro mass effect fields and enhancement of simulated intelligence structure replacement."

"You mean cybernetic cellular conversion powered by an Eezo core, right?" Garrus decided to play it cool. And it paid off as he saw Miras's smile wipe away.

"Well... to, er, put it bluntly." Miras stuttered. "I didn't know Binary Helix was interested in those areas."

"Any actual applications? When I talked to him back on Sur'Kesh, I didn't get the impression that he was actually capable of getting any clinical applications through." Garrus leaned back.

"We haven't seen the actual cybernetics in our patients." Miras gulped. "But he's told us that he's recently been able to actually convert an entire kidney into artificial parts."

"Told?" Garrus snickered. "Binary Helix is looking to push forward, expand our research venue. We'll be pruning our funds to this hospital if I have my say in it."

As expected, Garrus watched from his nest as Miras immediately headed out. It was either that or Saleon would come, which would have been more convenient but less revealing.

* * *

Bailey was expecting the reply to come a bit later, but after his mail went through he immediately received a direct vid link to his desk. The man looked the same as in all the vids that plastered him everywhere. If Bailey could choose one word to describe the man, it would be 'tough'.

"SSV Tokyo, Captain Anderson speaking."

"Well, Captain Anderson, I appreciate your extremely rapid response to my request." Bailey had expected a celebrity. But the man seemed all business.

"Anything to help..."

"Lieutenant Bailey, sir." Bailey hurriedly relayed his suspicions on Saren. He had been waiting for a moment like this, to pounce on the Spectre that he had been chasing ever since the Turian had first intervened with his investigations. He had preached to Rookies to let it go, that Spectres were not something you lost sleep over. It was different now. He could almost feel it palpably within his reach.

Anderson listened carefully to Bailey's evidence. Bailey finished, telling Anderson of the mysterious experiments, the Machine man, and the curious human directing its recreation.

"I can't claim to know about anything regarding the human research," Anderson admitted. "But, as for Saren... "

Anderson began relating to Bailey of his run-in with Saren thirteen years ago.

"He was after an artifact from Sidon." Anderson looked troubled. "I have no idea what it was about. But the scientist who had been pursuing the artifact were specialized in artificial intelligence, funded by a Batarian industrialist interested in Prothean technology."

"You think he'd be interested in cracking down illegal AI research?"

David Anderson shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I just don't know. But what I can tell you is that whatever Saren is after, he's not in for anything small. He is the exemplar of Turians, the elite of the elite. His objective, though hidden, always seemed to chase something more grandiose than simply chasing criminals. If he has been cracking down on this illegal recreation speared by humans, it's probably a competitive race to claim the prize."

* * *

"Jan Tolin." Barla Von greeted his kinsman as the other entered the Volus Equities and Exchange office.

"Von," Tolin nodded as he perched himself up on a stool.

"What a pleasure to have you in my office." Von chimed a bell as a lithe Asari assistant entered with canisters of refreshments. Tolin's eyes trailed the Asari out the office. "What brings you to the Financial District, friend?"

"I see you have a new assistant."

"Nyxeris?" Von shrugged.

"Cute." Tolin connected the Canister to his suit.

"I could get her contact for you."

"No." Tolin waved his hand. "Too busy."

"Remarkable." Von commented. "Commander Pallin is finally seeing you for the officer you are."

"Just chasing ghosts."

"Oh, I love ghost stories."

"You'd be interested." Tolin leaned over to the desk. "Saren Arterius."

If Von was surprised he didn't show it.

"Spectres." Von purred. "I suppose it wasn't Commander Pallin who was keeping you busy."

"Got a new Rookie who's shown some talent. Bailey and I want to get his feet wet in our little hobby."

"I suppose Vakarian would be interested in chasing Spectres, having been forced to turn away from that prestigious track years ago by the former Executor."

"Huh," Tolin breathed down the Canister. "You're always full of interesting tidbits."

"Share your ghost stories, and I'll share you mine." Von proposed.

Tolin related their investigation to Von, trying to leave out the more delicate details. But Barla Von immediately caught on to the missing bits.

"Show me the vid." Barla Von sat back, with his free hand he entered a series of codes which immediately activated the locks in the office.

"This had better be worth it."

Tolin projected the vid over Von's desk. It was a weak gesture, as Tolin was sure Von was recording the images for further processing later.

When the short vid was finished, Von sat back, obviously summing up the matter of payment.

"I'll be right back." Von responded finally, in a more sincere voice. He exited through a back door, locking the office behind. Tolin waited nervously hoping that he was right to trust Barla Von with the information. Von returned in five minutes, enough time to have replayed the vid.

"Your ghost stories were... " Von paused. "extremely interesting."

Tolin sighed in relief.

"My story" Von leaned forward. "is about the three headed dog."

* * *

"Doctor Michel,"

Chloe had been preparing for the following work day, clearing the food, and the frozen body parts. She turned to see Armistan Banes enter with a smile on his face.

"You've been a very busy girl, haven't you?"


	10. Code 207: Kidnapping

**Code 207: Kidnapping**

Bailey stood before the clinic doors perplexed.

They had agreed to meet again, after a cursory investigation to separate leads. But here he was alone, in front of the locked door of the clinic. Chloe's voice message ringing clearly that she had important family business, apologizing to the patients.

Jan wasn't responding to his calls, and neither were Garrus or Chloe. After years of chasing Spectres , biding his time, he began to feel the same premonition that perhaps this time again he would fail.

* * *

"You brought us nothing new, Doctor."

Chloe slowly awoke from her drowsiness. She found herself bound in a chair, omni locks glistening brightly. She felt nauseous, with a bad onion like taste in her mouth, which she assumed were the by products of the drug she had been injected with.

Armistan Banes was sitting across her. He seemed to have been talking, irrelevant of her conscious state. Either that, or she had been falling in and out of consciousness.

"The husks," Banes continued, "were first discovered more than twenty years ago, right after Shanxi. You refer to them as 'Machine men'. We'll refer to them as husks. They don't actually maintain the semblance of intelligence of the host."

Chloe wanted to talk, but her mind was dizzying in and out, and she felt a drool of spittle congeal down her lip.

"The Turian was right in assuming that we were trying to engineer a similar transition." Banes continued. "We've abandoned those tactics long ago. 'Dragon teeth', as you call the conversion mechanism, was too traumatic to yield any intermediary results. We've developed a few of our own, processing the organic protoplasm to assist in reconstructing the tailor made nano devices, but with limited success."

Other men, armored in white holding assault rifles, helmeted, swam into view. They seemed to be walking around her.

"Initially," Banes leaned back. "we had invited the Salarian Doctor to assist in our efforts. The evidence that you have collated were the byproducts of his research. As you found out, they were rather unsuccessful. We accumulated too much body count that we had to let him go."

"Go?" Chloe slurred.

Banes walked over and patted her cheek. "Yes, dear Doctor. He's no longer with us. Nor is our project. We've taken an alternate route, investigating other similar processes throughout the Galaxy. Plant based enormous fly traps that clone the victims as mind controlled copies while it digests the host, neural implants using the host's biotic energy to fuel the infestation of the host's brain, advanced artificial intelligence capable of assuming control over a vast number of drones, regenerative research that can bring dead organs back to life."

"Why.."

"Why?" Banes sat back. "Humanity has progressed at astounding speed, Doctor. The first indication of human civilization was less than a mere ten thousand years ago. It took two to even five times as long for other races to reach what we have achieved. Our growth has always been exponential. But not without a cost."

"You're.." Chloe sighed, trying to breath out the drug from her system as much as she could. She was sweating.

"My organization aims to overcome those difficulties." Banes spread his hands. "The birth of anti-septics was borne from the wars that raged for Imperialistic growth, so were the birth of blood transfusions. Atomic energy was harnessed to wipe out large cities with a single bomb, as were guided missiles and then rocket energy. Regenerative limbs and medigel technology was developed to redeploy experienced soldiers to the field. Mass accelerators that drove our ships into space exploded into use while trying to develop weapons with unlimited ammo. True artificial intelligence was developed to disrupt enemy VI networks. And now, we face the Galaxy."

"You're not Alliance." Chloe finally mouthed.

"Turians, Asari, Salarians." Banes sneered. "I've run my career doing counter intelligence against Turians. But the Alliance is fickle and slow, constantly shifting with every government. We are at a stand still. But there is a war going on, Doctor. A war to become the Apex Race of the Galaxy."

Banes returned to his seat.

"You see, doctor. Power is never shared. The Turians are the only race standing in our way."

* * *

"And the humans," Saren continued, "are the only race challenging our dominance."

Garrus vaguely remembered following Miras into the freighter. He had waited patiently, looking out for alternate routes. There had been a fuel supply line that had stretched from the docks to the ship, allowing him to zip line into the reactor chamber, then to the cargo hold. It all became fuzzy after that.

He was bound now. With a pulsating headache which made his ears ring.

"I've watched you with great interest, Vakarian." Saren sat down across him. A string of Turian paramilitary soldiers, though, did not let their guard down as they remained training their rifle on him. He recognized Jacobus among them, standing in attention beside Saren's chair. "I was hoping that you would overcome your family's tendencies to join C-Sec. You were made to be a Spectre."

"Doctor Saleon..." Garrus muttered.

"The Salarian is of no consequence." sneered Saren. "Like all Salarians, short lived and short sighted. He served his purpose infiltrating the human organization, botching their work, stalling them. His use is at an end."

"Where is he?" Garrus persisted.

Saren abruptly got out of his chair, stalking forward with great strides matching his tall stature. He gripped Garrus's frills, jerking his head back, his eyes seemingly glowed blue.

"That's the C-Sec officer in you, Vakarian." he droned. "I want you to be more. I want the Turians to be more than just the brute of the Citadel. We could have conquered the Galaxy a millennia ago. Instead, our race has been subjugated to being the watchdogs of galactic civilization. Turian blood has been used to scrub the walls of the Citadel clean, while the Salarians hide in their shadows, and the Asari look down upon us. Now they dare consider elevating the humans. How droll."

"The murders." Garrus found his strength returning. "Tell me about the murders."

"They were just a distraction." Saren let Garrus go. "A ploy to keep Cerberus busy trying to emulate us. They're barely fumbling to grasp at the technology required to control drone armies."

"And you? What have you acquired?"

"Turians," Saren purred. "do not filthy their hands. Do you not grasp that yet, Garrus? We use others to do our bidding. You've always tried to get your hands dirty whenever you could, haven't you? Like a human. An admirable enthusiasm, but it has led you no where. Meanwhile your comrade Chellick deploys agents, use them to fuel his social rise. Feeling left behind, Garrus? It is time to embrace your true heritage. I need young Turians like you."

"What army are you building?"

"I don't build armies, Vakarian." Saren sneered. "I subjugate them. There is a vast AI army that awaits to be beaten into submission. And I have acquired the whip to do just that. Don't you see how much more refined it is, than the disgusting practices of the humans?"

* * *

By the time Jan reached the clinic, he found Bailey had already left. Barla Von's intel had been astounding, and they were so much on the wrong track. The information also implied that Chloe Michel had been targeted by the human organization Cerberus for, what Barla Von called, 'assimilation or elimination'.

Bailey wasn't answering either. Tolin felt torn. His friend and partner ever since he joined C-Sec, a young innocent Rookie that they had shoe horned along, and a civilian Doctor they had, again, invited into danger, were all missing. Three people in danger and only one person to act. He cursed himself, his inadequacy to be able to just take action, like Garrus.

Civilians came first, he decided. He had little time to waste. Barla Von had directed him to a small warehouse in the factory district of Zakera Ward. He got into his patrol car, his heart racing.

* * *

"We could use minds like yours, Doctor." Banes offered. "You've always wanted to help humanity reach the stars. Despite your misguided attempts to ingratiate humanity to the alien filth, we are willing to absolve your atrocities if you join us."

Chloe felt her senses sharpen acutely. The drug effect had faded, leaving her shuddering and chilling. Serotonin withdrawal, she diagnosed herself.

"And the murders?"

"Humanity has always had to make sacrifices." Banes dismissed the crimes with a wave of his hand. "Don't delude yourself, doctor. The tower to the stars has been built upon the bodies of human sacrifice."

"And if I refuse?" Chloe stared at Banes.

His face had grown cold. Still impeccably handsome, there was a glint in his eyes that told Chloe that the man before her did not share the common sentiment and empathy of a normal human being.

"We can always use more spare body parts, Doctor." Banes shrugged, considering her question a final answer. "We want eager participants, not agents prone to disobey orders. We will never force you to join us, Doctor. But that doesn't mean we will let you go."

Banes promptly got up and walked away. It was too abrupt that Chloe panicked, struggling vainly against her restraints.

"Wait, please! Stop!" Chloe barely shouted as the armored faceless men injected her with another drug.

* * *

"Udina!" Bailey struggled against the security guards as they held him back from barging into the Consular's office. "Udina! Get out here now!"

The assistant seemed to receive orders through her earpiece, replying "Understood, Consular."

The assistant turned to Bailey, calmly. "The Consular will see you outside in a private room. You will go there and wait, or not see him at all."

Bailey slumped, no longer resisting. His friends were probably in danger and he was now being asked to observe the niceties.

"Tell him I'll wait. Ten minutes. Then I'm gone, and so is his career."

* * *

"I understand, Saren." Garrus nodded. "I'm too fed up with this bureaucracy to give a shit any more. I see your vision, and something in it tells me that that's the answer to what's been holding every Turian in a disgruntled mess since we've joined the Galactic community."

"It is inevitable, Garrus." Saren stated firmly, fueled by the younger Turian's vigor. "We will hold the Galaxy under our command. I am not a ruthless butcher as some would have me believe. But there is a greater threat in the Galaxy. To face this, we must lead the weaker races. It is the pinnacle of cultural evolution to achieve an apex race. We will lead them to Empire."

"I believe in our Destiny." Garrus glowed, eagerly. "I believe this is necessary to build order and law to every reach of galactic civilization. Let me join you. I beg to join your cause."

Saren smiled proudly.

"I will raise you above all others, Vakarian." Saren proclaimed. "You will be my foremost agent, the savior of the Galaxy. Together, we will defeat all. I have foreseen it in you. I will meet you aboard my flagship, Vakarian."

Saren turned on his heels and left.


	11. Ruptured Tympanic Membrane

Jacobus twiddled the visor between his fingers disdainfully, often tossing it up and catching it, carelessly dropping it to the floor from time to time.

"Despite what the Master says," Jacobus hissed. "you're nothing but an initiate, Vakarian. You do not know the depths to which we have suffered to attain the Ascension of the Turian race."

"Put the visor down." Garrus commanded slowly.

Jacobus ignored him, too caught up in the moment. Garrus wondered from time to time why these idiots often did this. It mattered little in the end, when you lined them up before a tribunal they could spew all the ridiculous monologues they wanted. The truth will out, as his father always said.

"We are not just following Saren Arterius, Vakarian." Jacobus continued. "There is more to this universe than just dominance of the Citadel. Have you ever wondered why every race of similar strength converged to this Citadel at this time? Within a span of a few thousand years, Asari, Salarians, Turians, Vol, Elcor, Quarians, Humans and even the Krogan have all flocked here. Each race trillions strong. In our vast history, have you ever seen such division of strength? Has any good ever come of it?"

"Put the visor down." Garrus growled.

"It is not enough to be simply Turian, Vakarian." Jacobus whirled around with a flair, almost dropping the visor, to which Garrus winced. "We certainly have the qualities to presume dominance. But is that enough? Our military prowess, our discipline, our single minded focus, it must all become enhanced to dominate all others."

"Put the visor down, now."

"This cheep thing?" Jacobus studied the visor with renewed interest. "Amateurish. Something a wanna-be like you would pick up at an inflated price at the Rodam expeditions."

Jacobus placed the visor on, leering down at Garrus.

"Did the little C-Sec officer wanna be a hero?" Jacobus grinned.

"Put the visor down." Garrus repeated slowly.

"Or what?"

* * *

Despite what everyone thought of him, Jan Tolin had one extreme field skill that surpassed nearly everyone, Camouflage. Not that he had mastered the art of fading into obscurity, or hiding in the shadows. Instead, Jan Tolin looked like just another ubiquitous Volus, only barely distinguishable from another Volus by oddities in his pressure suit. He walked past almost everyone without even a security check until he reached the ventilation system of the factory.

Volus of the Citadel, like any other species employed themselves wherever they could. Most worked in the financial and economic industries, from selling small items to moving money. Others utilized their engineering skills to work the machinery, press buttons, and of course, crawl through small spaces. It was their particularly inconspicuous nature that lent him his disguise, the disguise of being irrelevant. The security didn't even offer him a glance as he casually removed the vent and disappeared.

Unlike others of the vol clan, Jan had steadily equipped his infiltration mods. It was a small penchant of his to upgrade his environmental suit to astounding levels. Already he sported several cybernetic countermeasures, adhesion grips, and a small gas exchange module that would fill his suit with a compressed packet of helium to allow him to float. Bailey would have cracked his head off laughing with the last one.

But not if he could see Jan floating upwards now along the air ducts that ventilated the complex. Jan's bloated form, like a little volus shaped balloon deftly entered the vertical stretch.

* * *

When she was young Chloe hated fairy tales.

All the fairy tales she had heard had princesses locked up in towers, waiting for someone. They would always be performing some aimless chore, like spinning a wheel, or making themselves pretty until someone came up to take notice of them. She had tried it out once, sitting up in the old ruins of a castle, imagining what it would be like to wait for someone to come and help her. She imagined that a class mate of hers would walk by, notice her, and perhaps strike up a conversation. If there was a narrative power of the universe, perhaps if she truly believed it would come true, following the same pattern as every other fairy tale, then perhaps it would become true. That had been a serious waste of hours. But it had told her one thing; no one will come.

They had taken her down to the basement, which served as a storage area of sorts. The rustle of the winds along the containers, told her that there was an opening leading outside. The basement probably doubled for a dock of sorts, to load and unload around the back of the building. As Citadel law usually prohibited private docking facilities, it was safe to assume that those docks were there for more shadier purposes.

Now her mind completely cleared of the drug haze, she could see that there were stocks of the containers reaching far back into the shadows. Each container was about a man's height and width, fluctuating indicator lights that probably told of the freshness of the captives within them.

Humans were a commodity in space. She had come to accept the incredible lack of safe keeping the so-called embassies of the Citadel took for their citizens. Humanity was one of the worst, with an estimated of thousands of humans newly entering slavery somewhere in the universe each day. Humans were one of the fastest growing black market item. It was so easy to disappear, these days. What surprised her was that this was happening to her. She had imagined that perhaps her social status and well connected life would have shielded her from the dangers that beset the common colonist.

Most of the guards had left, the only one remaining was a burly pale albino with dark visors that covered his eyes. He had not spoken a word since he had taken charge, simply pushing the gurney down to the basement without a word. At least that was a positive. She had feigned unconsciousness for now.

Chloe imagined that not all these containers were carefully hand packaged. The sheer amount of them denied the possibility that they were abducted person by person. She concluded that her case was a rare exception. Slim as it may be, there was going to be one chance where she could possibly attempt to escape, transition.

The burly man with the visors stopped before an empty casket and started opening the locks. Chloe could see that they were cryocontainers, which meant only one thing, long term freshly alive transport. She could see that the casket was small enough that the guard would have to subdue her and place her in. She had to muster her strength for the surprise assault. Her last chance, she judged, to escape. Chloe was never a brave person, never a strong person, nor anything beyond the ordinary. But what she had learned, only recently, was that she could maintain a singular focus of calmness, even in the worst situations.

She didn't believe in fairy stories, and right now, there was no rescuer, no villain with a monologue, no princess to be rescued. There was just Chloe Michel and a goon. As the albino hulk unclasped her manacles, holding her wrists together, she swung up her feet with all the strength she could muster, hitting him squarely in the face.

The visor cracked and dropped to the floor.

What Chloe saw almost made her yelp. The socket where the eyes usually were, were completely emptied and replaced with cybernetic implants. Blue light flashed from the sockets from fixed cameras, scanning Chloe up and down. The side of his sockets were engorged and lined by superficial vein like growth, spidery blue lines crawling away from the emptiness.

"What... what are you?" Chloe gasped.

In a raspy mechanical voice, as if filtered through a voice module, replied, "The future of humanity."

* * *

In his youth Garrus had been ordinary.

Nothing had allowed him to stand forth with excellence before his peers. He was no genius, he was no slacker, neither extremely diligent nor weak. Admittingly, he had never risen to prominence for his innert abilities. His sister, on the other hand, was a bright young woman. Gifted in learning, athletic enough to garner local accolades.

But the pressures of being a Vakarian would wear you down. It chipped away at the core, the expectant gazes, the disappointed looks, and the sick mother. Solana had found her confidence fade to dust, accepting what life threw at her.

Garrus, on the other hand, had one particular characteristic that stood out from all his peers. He was bull minded to the extreme. He took perseverance and hard work to the limit. By the time they had come of age, turning sixteen, Garrus Vakarian had become the bright shining star of the family.

Physically and mentally, the hard work had paid off.

Seven Turians lay on the floor of the cargo bay where he had been held, six dead. Jacobus tried crawling away, but his legs had been shattered. He didn't have a particular goal to reach. He just wanted to get away from his former captive. His arms were swimming on land, probably making better progress than what a Turian would achieve in the water. The calm footsteps patiently approached him, both knowing that he would be overtaken.

Garrus reached down and picked the visor off Jacobus's head.

"This was a present from home," Garrus grunted as he fixed his visor back on. "Kuwashii visor mark two. It's a dated model, but all that my sister and father could afford. It has... sentimental value."

Jacobus still tried to claw his way forward, anyway.

"I've installed an tech mechanism... which seems to have also overloaded its circuits." Garrus continued, caring little if Jacobus heard him or not. "You shouldn't have taken it, you know. That's theft. I hate... criminals."

Jacobus finally stopped as he felt the muzzle of a gun pressing against the back of his neck.

"I'll let you live if you can tell me where the Salarian went."

"How do I know you won't shoot me afterwards?" Jacobus gurgled. Garrus felt bad that he had smashed Jacobus's face in. He wasn't good at communication.

"Chances of you living slightly improves, don't you agree?" Garrus fired a shot right next to Jacobus's ear. The mercenary screamed as one of his ear drums imploded.

"We locked him in the brig. Planned to execute him once we left the docks." Jacobus blurted.

"Good man." Garrus nodded, firing another shot on the other side of Jacobus's head, deafening the Turian.

Garrus carefully stepped over the Turian and entered the hallway looking around, wishing he had asked for directions before shooting off Jacobus's hearing.


	12. Code 444: Officer-involved Shooting

**Code 444: Officer-Involved Shooting**

Eight more dead Turians later, Garrus entered the brig. He wished he hadn't killed all those Turians, but strictly speaking, they fired at an officer of the law. Whether the law had ordered him to proceed with this investigation was still ambiguous.

The brig obviously served as cages for the experimental subjects. The stench was horrendous. They were a mixture of Salarians, humans, Quarians, and volus. None of the longer living races were present, asari and krogan. Neither were there any Turians. All were dead, decaying for some time, invariably between a day and a month.

A cursory scan of the bodies reported no cybernetic implants were present within the dead bodies. Curiously however, the scans reported that most of the subjects were either missing various organs or had more than the allotted organs deemed anatomically normal.

All with the exception of one. After studiously categorizing and uploading the tissue samples for identification, one single Salarian at the end of the room, not caged, but on the floor, with a gun shot wound between the eyes, was recently killed, an hour at best.

The freshness of the tissue yielded results immediately. Garrus squatted down by the Salarian, observing the head trauma, making sure the subject was dead.

"Doctor Saleon, I presume." Garrus grunted.

* * *

Jan reached the top most bend of the ventilation shaft and proceeded to crawl through the final horizontal stretch. There were voices coming down from the vent, and he activated the stealth mode on his body suit, which mainly consisted of padding the outer layers with soft velvety material.

As he approached the opening he could make out the voices of a heated conversation. A nasal voice, probably Salarian, was talking urgently with gruff human voices.

"We were ambushed!" the Salarian voice came.

"And you thought you could scurry back to us? After handing over our research to Saren?"

"I need protection! I can tell you how much Saren has progressed!"

"We have our own intel on how much the Turians have accomplished, Doctor."

Jan tried scurrying faster toward the opening, anxious to identify the suspects, but his felt layered outfit was impeding progress.

"I don't know how many moles you have, but my data is better. Saren has developed full formed husks."

"That's a lie, Doctor Miras." the human laughed. "Our sources tell us that Saren has abandoned recreating husks."

Jan finally approached the vent. There was no sign of Chloe Michel in the room below. Several armed humans were surrounding a lone Salarian. The room was also littered with human body parts. The Salarian was standing before an open container, which also showed several unidentifiable organs from various species, preserved in fluid, presented like a door-to-door peddler.

Jan quickly activated his omni-tool, identifying the suspects. Unfortunately the scan failed to identify any one of the persons in the room, all reporting as unregistered. Frustrated he opened a query searching for 'Doctor Miras' the Salarian. The results, however, plummeted Jan into more vexations. The image of Doctor Miras didn't match the Salarian below.

Jan's thoughts were interrupted by a scuttling noise from behind him. First, distant scratching noises were now becoming closer, like metallic pincers scraping the tin walls. Craning his neck to look behind, Jan found himself staring at large bulbous yellow cameras mounted upon walking insect-like legs. Four or five of them in the darkness, blinding him. Jan scampered backwards as the metallic insects approached, cursing to himself that it all seemed too easy to infiltrate this base.

Red energy began to glow at the tusks of the mounted cameras. With a piercing shrill they began firing energy beams at him. Jan hurriedly rolled about trying to avoid the beams, finally rolling over the vent.

As Bailey would say, between a rock and a hard place. Jan screamed as he felt the vent give way to his weight, plummeting down to the room below and landing in the midst of the armed foot soldiers.

* * *

"I thought I told you never to contact me!"

Bailey had been waiting in the hotel room for well over an hour when Udina finally made his appearance.

"My men are missing." Bailey growled. "And you take your sweet ass time to respond."

"I never recalled that you were in any way my superior." Udina scoffed. "Don't delude yourself, Detective. You may be the highest ranking human in C-Sec, but you're still nothing but a detective, passed over so often by your Turian masters. I extended you the courtesy of seeing you before, and seeing you now, for humanity's sake. You don't get to make demands of me! Understood?"

"Alright, Udina." Bailey glowered. "As long as you can tell me anything useful."

Udina scowled as he seated himself.

"The organization you're looking for is Cerberus."

After a long paused silence, Bailey arched his eyebrows. "Is that supposed to mean anything?"

Udina scoffed, straightening his lapels as if the question was as ignorant as from child. "Cerberus was an offshoot organization of the Alliance Intelligence Black Ops, incorporating various members from its anti-Turian wetworks teams. They were disowned by the Alliance several years ago, when a Manifesto appeared in circulation claiming human supremacy."

"Human Supremacy?" Bailey tried to patch the concepts together. It was such a weird term. He had often heard of Asari Supremacy and Turian Supremacy, but 'human supremacy' went as well together as ice cream and red chili.

"Since then, Alliance intelligence has gathered that its former rogue operatives have begun propounding human interests with extreme measures."

"I thought we were investigating a Turian conspiracy." Bailey scratched his head.

Udina frowned. "There's that, as well. Naturally the emergence of a human supremacy group alerted the factions within the Turian hierarchy that were especially disgruntled about Shanxi. But no matter. Alliance intelligence informs me that the abductions and mutilations of our Citizens were from the hands of our own Supremists. One of the reasons I wished that this matter stay hidden until you find anything conclusive. I can hardly imagine what the Council will say when they find out that humanity has been militantly acting to dethrone them."

"Well I won't get any information with all my men gone missing." Bailey objected.

"I don't know the whereabouts of these Supremists, Detective." Udina shook his head. "The vid was handed to me by Alliance Intelligence, Captain Kahoku. The man's been after the trail of Cerberus, and is considered an expert in these matters."

With that, Udina promptly got up. Bailey surprised, grabbed at Udina's sleeve.

"That's it?"

"What did you suspect, Detective?" Udina looked down at Bailey, disdainfully. "Alliance Intelligence is as fraught and riddled with incompetence. I have no doubt that your Commander Pallin actually has more information than I have. He's probably stemming your own investigation, for all I know."

Udina turned forcefully on Bailey, shaking off his grip, shoving a finger before his face.

"Had you played your cards better, I wouldn't be here to help you find your alien friends. Help only comes to the powerful, Detective. Try buttering up your Commander. Otherwise, I doubt you'll be seeing your friends again."

* * *

The cyborg's strength was immense. Chloe found herself flailing to no avail, as he pushed her into the cryo casket, screaming at the top of her lungs. To her surprise, her random flailing was actually stalling him from safely placing her in. An opportune connection of her foot to the groin of the soldier elicited a heartfelt groan as she found the grip on her arm suddenly flaxen.

Encourage, she drove the heel of her boot firmly into the man's optic implants.

A blood curling howl erupted, as the man fell backwards, completely loosening his grip from the Doctor. Free of his grip, she dashed away, as the man grabbed at his optics in pain. Not looking back, Chloe bolted from the room.

* * *

Jan looked about the armed soldiers warily. Four of them were now training their rifles on the him and the Salarian who claimed to be Doctor Miras.

"Friend of yours?" The human leader scowled.

Miras looked warily at Jan. "I guess that ends my negotiations."

"I guess so," chuckled the human, aiming to shoot.

Jan saw the sudden change of Miras's expression, something that humans easily missed. Jan had been facing aliens all his life, and he was accustomed to the facial expressions of various species. The look on Miras's face could only be described as vulgar, as it twisted into a gleeful snarl of a hidden demon.

"You forget yourself, Cerberus." Miras breathed through his smile. "Before humans reached space, before Turians claimed might, Salarians moved the stars."

"What-"

A bolt of energy, arced through the room, emanating from the luggage case that held the harvested organs. It leaped from soldier to soldier, often glancing off Miras who seemed to be encased in a personal shield. The soldiers writhed in pain, as the insectoid probes that had fallen with Jan burst their circuitry. Jan's own optics followed, his suit suddenly loosing power as the circuitry became fried.

Darkness followed, as all Jan could hear was his own rapid breathing. His suit had completely shut down, optics, auditory and even respiratory. He felt his suit suddenly bloating up from the lack of pressure controls. His ears were muffled by the sudden increase of suit pressure. Distantly he could hear single shots ringing out. Four shots were fired.

Jan's heart raced.

"I don't know who you are, Volus." A voice suddenly broke out. The Salarian was obviously pressing his face against Jan's suit. "But I prefer to keep it that way."

Jan closed his eyes, his heart calming down to a slow pulse.

He briefly thought of the women of the Citadel who would miss him, smiled.


End file.
